Philip Henry Savage Poems

Brother, Time is a thing how slight!
Day lifts and falls, and it is night.
Rome stands an hour, and the green leaf
...

Day by day along the street
Many a girl I see is sweet;
But the lips that should be ripe,
Pallid like the Indian-pipe.
...

Dear heart, that in this world must live and die,
And love, and fix your faith on one to love you,
How should I live, to think it were not I,
...

Even in the city, I
Am ever conscious of the sky;
A portion of its frame no less
Than in the open wilderness.
...

Far in the south the redwings hear and speed
To answer nature's far-heard northern cry;
Swift from the fields they gather and take on
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Here by the brimming April streams,
Here is the valley of my dreams.

Every garden place is seen
...

Hot days like this will wound or bless,
At home as in the wilderness.
The wind, with burning feet,
Lingers along the wheat;
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I dare not think that thou art by, to stand
And face omnipotence so near at hand!
When I consider thee how must I shrink,
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I know not what it is, but when I pass
Some running bit of water by the way,
A river brimming silver in the grass,
...

I Laugh for the long days I see ahead
Stretching in yellow light where we shall walk,
And pluck the full-blown roses from the stalk,
...