Philip Henry Savage

(1868-1899 / the United States)

Philip Henry Savage Poems

1. Here By The Brimming April Streams 10/18/2010
2. Hot Days Like This Will Wound Or Bless 10/18/2010
3. I Dare Not Think That Thou Art By, To Stand 10/18/2010
4. I Know Not What It Is, But When I Pass 10/18/2010
5. I Laugh For The Long Days I See Ahead 10/18/2010
6. I Left The City 10/18/2010
7. I Love To Walk Against The Yellow Light 10/18/2010
8. I Mark You Coming The Accustomed Way 10/18/2010
9. I Stood At The Hedge As A Hearse Went By 10/18/2010
10. If Ever I Have Thought Or Said 10/18/2010
11. If One Should Call My Branching Verse 10/18/2010
12. In Long, Slow Silences Of Soul 10/18/2010
13. In The First Pale Flush Of Even 10/18/2010
14. It Is Long Waiting For The Dear Companions, 10/18/2010
15. Like A Dead Leaf That Rolls Along The Ground 10/18/2010
16. Love Is A Life You Cannot Trace 10/18/2010
17. Believe In Me! Lord, Who Art Thou 10/18/2010
18. Something In The Sense Of Morning 10/18/2010
19. A Beetle Bug Has Bit My Coat 10/18/2010
20. A Lark Flew By Upon The Air 10/18/2010
21. Adam Arose At The Word Of God, 10/18/2010
22. Brother, Time Is A Thing How Slight! 10/18/2010
23. Day By Day Along The Street 10/18/2010
24. Dear Heart, That In This World Must Live And Die 10/18/2010
25. Even In The City, I 10/18/2010
26. Far In The South The Redwings Hear And Speed 10/18/2010
27. Spinoza Polished Glasses Clear 10/18/2010
28. A March Flaw 10/18/2010
29. A New England Mountain 10/18/2010
30. A Wreath Of Buds And Lavender 10/18/2010
31. Against Forgiveness 10/18/2010
32. Anadyomene 10/18/2010
33. Architechture 10/18/2010
34. Clear And Far 10/18/2010
35. Confession 10/18/2010
36. My Sisters Have Their Loves 10/18/2010
37. Not All The World Can Banish From 10/18/2010
38. December 10/18/2010
39. Dog-Days 10/18/2010
40. Fagots 10/18/2010

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Best Poem of Philip Henry Savage

The Hedgerow

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.
Deep in the Woodstock meadows on a morn
Pleasant it is to wander ere the sun
Has burned the dewdrops off the bending grass;
When each small area seems a world complete,
When every forest stem beneath the sun
Shoots out a light, and every meadow span
Is dowered with moving radiance; and the hills!
I had not known their power till I had seen,
Limned by the early morn, their mystic heads
White in the eastern circuit. From ...

Read the full of The Hedgerow

Even In The City, I

Even in the city, I
Am ever conscious of the sky;
A portion of its frame no less
Than in the open wilderness.
The stars are in my heart by night;
I sing beneath the opening light,
As envious of the bird; I live
Upon the pavement, yet I give
My soul to every growing tree

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