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,
...

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.
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For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are
your ways my ways, saith the Lord.

GOD, thou art good, but not to me.
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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.
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'T IS man with man in the bitter end
Whatever the love and the heart of woman;
Iron with iron, friend with friend,
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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
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This is thy brother, this poor silver fish,
Close to the surface, dying in his dish;
Thy flesh, thy beating heart, thy very life;
...

LET men remember, when they pray,
The rose and silver dawns of May,
Most palely, spiritually gray;
...