Philip Henry Savage
Biography of Philip Henry Savage
Philip Henry Savage (February 11, 1868 - June 4, 1899) was an American poet.
Born in North Brookfield, Massachusetts on February 11, 1868, he was the son of Minot Judson Savage, a well-known Unitarian minister, and Ella A. Dodge. The family moved several times during his early life: to Framingham, then to Chicago and finally to Boston in 1874. He graduated from the English High School of Boston in 1885. He worked at the leather and shoe company Bachfelder and Lincoln, spending "a number of years drumming boots and shoes in the northeastern states" before he began attending Harvard in 1889 at age 21. He graduated there in 1893, and was conferred the degree of A.M. in 1896. During his time there, he edited the Harvard Monthly for three years, as well as editing a bi-weekly literary periodical, The Mahogany Tree, which was published out of Boston. After spending a year (1893-1894) at the Harvard Divinity School, he became an English instructor in Harvard's English department, and was able to publish his first volume of poems, First Poems and Fragments, in 1895.
Refusing a position as an English instructor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, he began work at the Boston Public Library as Secretary to the Librarian (who was, at the time, Herbert Putnam), becoming a Clerk of the Corporation in 1899. On May 31, 1899, he was stricken with appendicitis, and after a weeklong illness, he died on June 4th at Massachusetts General Hospital. In 1901, his collected poems were posthumously edited and released by his friend, well-known composer and musicologist, Daniel Gregory Mason, as the Poems of Philip Henry Savage. Mason praised Savage for "delicate idealism." Savage's nature poetry won the most praise from critics of his time. He was a close friend of another Harvard poet, William Vaughn Moody, who he entered Harvard with in 1889. Savage is often linked with a group known as the Harvard poets (or the Harvard Pessimists), many of whom died young (such as Trumbull Stickney, George Cabot Lodge and Hugh McCulloch).
Philip Henry Savage's Works:
# First Poems and Fragments (1895)
# Poems (1898)
# The Poems of Philip Henry Savage (1900)
Philip Henry Savage Poems
THE sun is up, Great God, the sun is up, High o'er the eastern hill among white clouds Insufferable! I thank Thee for the call.
AT rest upon some quiet limb And singing to his pretty 'marrow,' Sweet-breasted friend of child and man, I love the bright eyes and the tan,
For My Thoughts Are Not Your Thoughts, N...
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. GOD, thou art good, but not to me.
The Sea Is Silent Round This Rocky Shore
The sea is silent round this rocky shore; The forest wind From the loud level beach behind Brings rolling up the distant water's roar.
In Dove Cottage Garden
ON the terrace lies the sunlight, fretted with the shade Of the wilding apple-orchard Wordsworth made.
LIGHTER than dandelion down, Or feathers from the white moth's wing, Out of the gates of bramble-town The silkweed goes a-gypsying.
David And Jonathan
'T IS man with man in the bitter end Whatever the love and the heart of woman; Iron with iron, friend with friend,
I turn and see you passing in the street When you are not. I take another way, Lest missing you the fragrance of the day
LET men remember, when they pray, The rose and silver dawns of May, Most palely, spiritually gray;
This Is Thy Brother, This Poor Silver Fi...
This is thy brother, this poor silver fish, Close to the surface, dying in his dish; Thy flesh, thy beating heart, thy very life;
THE leaf will fall, through green and gold, To dissolution in the mould. The tree will fall, and in the sod
The Chickadee’s Song
To G.S. GLIMPSED now and again in his pine-tree tower, A chickadee sang the soft hours away.
Mary, When The Wild-Rose
Mary, when the wild-rose Blossomed on the vine, Hearts were light, eyes were bright, But none so bright as thine.
Roll down, roll down, thou darkling earth, To the eastern shores of light, Where the plashing waves of the morning's birth
I Left The City
I Left the city to the north and walked
Against a southwest wind; the hurtling rain
Showered the empty streets in noisy gusts,
Swept little footsteps down across the walls,
And on the wind came tossing through the trees.
The gusty city was not long to leave,
And underneath the open heaven I found
Breath and a beating wind, a hurrying sky
Of gray cloud under white, a world of rain,