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"Something in the sense of morning
Lifts the heart up to the sun."
In our youth we may be pagan,
God is many, and the One
Great Supreme will wait till evening
When our little day is done.

— Philip Henry Savage Untitled]; First Poems & Fragments (1895)

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More quotes by Philip Henry Savage

Lighter than dandelion down,
Or feathers from the white moth’s wing,
Out of the gates of bramble-town
The silkweed goes a-gypsying.

Thou hoarse Aristophanic mime,
Grotesque Silenus of the slime,
That dar'st to lift a comic voice
Where thrushes worship and rejoice.

The sun, this old November,
Across the sodden slope,
May bid the heart remember,
But cannot bid it hope.

Where wildness has been wilderness shall be,
But give God time; and life is but a span,
Nine inches, while before it and behind
Stretches the garden of the cosmic gods.

New friends forbear, and let old friends remember
With pity him who ends his course to-day;
Nor heap with scorn his grave in dead December
Whose life bore golden promises in May.

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Philip Henry Savage (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.