Sam Walter Foss
Sam Walter Foss Poems
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
...
One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
...
“The proper way for a man to pray”
said Deacon Lemuel Keyes,
“and the only proper attitude
is down upon his knees.”
...
We've lived for forty years, dear wife,
And walked together side by side,
And you to-day are just as dear
As when you were my bride.
...
I
They met and they talked where the crossroads meet,
Four men from the four winds come,
...
THE TOWN of Hay is far away,
The town of Hay is far;
Between its hills of green and gray
Its winding meadows are.
...
'How is business?' asks the young man of the Spirit of the Years;
'Tell me of the modern output from the factories of fate,
...
The Man of Questions paused and stood
Before the Man of Toil,
And asked, 'Are you content, my man,
To dig here in the soil?
...
What is the world’s true Bible -- ‘tis the highest thought of man,
The thought distilled through ages since the dawn of thought began.
...
Men seem as alike as the leaves on the trees,
As alike as the bees in a swarming of bees
...
'There will be a war in Europe,
Thrones will be rent and overturned,'
('Go and fetch a pail of water,' said his wife).
...
If the century gone, as the wise ones attest,
Exceeds all the centuries before it,
Then the century coming will better its best
...
'Let us paint a landscape in June,' he cried;
'A Landscape in high June.'
And the poster-painter swelled with pride
And trilled a merry tune.
...
The trumpets were calling me over the hill,
And I was a boy and knew nothing of men;
But they filled all the vale with their clangorous trill,
...
Sam Walter Foss Biography
Sam Walter Foss was a librarian and poet whose works included The House by the Side of the Road and The Coming American. He was born in rural Candia, New Hampshire. Foss lost his mother at age four, worked on his father's farm and went to school in the winter. He graduated from Brown University in 1882, and would be considered illustrious enough to warrant having his name inscribed on the mace. Beginning in 1898, he served as librarian at the Somerville Public Library in Massachusetts. He married a minister's daughter, with whom he had a daughter and son. Foss used to write a poem a day for the newspapers, and his five volumes of collected poetry are of the frank and homely “common man” variety. Longtime baseball announcer Ernie Harwell alluded to one of Foss's poems whenever he described a batter taking a called third strike: "He stood there like the house by the side of the road and watched it go by." "Bring me men to match my mountains, Bring me men to match my plains, Men with empires in their purpose, And new eras in their brains." -- Sam Walter Foss, from "The Coming American", July 4, 1894 These words were inscribed on a granite wall at the United States Air Force Academy to inspire cadets and officers, but they were removed in 2003. He is buried in the North Burial Ground in Providence, Rhode Island.)
The Best Poem Of Sam Walter Foss
The House By The Side Of The Road
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Sam Walter Foss Comments
The House by the Side of the Road has been a favorite of mine for many years. As a lifelong observer of my fellow man, I find this poem a perfect description of what has drawn me to write stories about the foibles of humans.
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2025 1:43:15 AM # 1.0.0
Do you have information on the Sam Walter Foss poem, The Volunteer Organist? I see conflicting info on the dates - and confusion due to a ballad version written by Gray and Spaulding. Do you know which came first, and in which year Foss wrote (not necessarily published) it? Do you have any othe background info, different from Wikipedia?