Richard Hovey (May 4, 1864 – February 24, 1900) was an American poet. Graduating from Dartmouth College in 1885, he is known in part for penning the school Alma Mater, Men of Dartmouth.
East, to the dawn, or west or south or north! Loose rein upon the neck of-and forth!
I have need of the sky, I have business with the grass; I will up and get me away where the hawk is wheeling Lone and high, And the slow clouds go by. I will get me away to the waters that glass The clouds as they pass. I will get me away to the woods.
Love seeks a guerdon; friendship is as God,Who gives and asks no payment.
How loving is the Lord God and how strong withal!
Fair weather weddings make fair weather lives.
And you prate of the wealth of nations, as if it were bought and sold, The wealth of nations is men, not silk and cotton and gold.
I am fevered with the sunset, I am fretful with the bay, For the wander-thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay.
EXPRESSIONS Look without! Behold the beauty of the day, The shout of color to glad color, rocks and trees, and sun and seas, and wind and sky: All these are God's expression, art work of His hand, which men must love ere they can understand.
The East and the West in the spring of the world shall blend As a man and a woman that plight Their troth in the warm spring night.
I am sick of four walls and a ceiling I have need of the sky, I have business with the grass.
Nor love they least Who strike with right good will To vanquish ill And fight God's battle upward from the beast.
For 't is always fair weather When good fellows get together With a stein on the table and a good song ringing clear.
Ye who made war that your ships Should lay to at the beck of no nation, Make war now on Murder, that slips The leash of her hounds of damnation; Ye who remembered the Alamo, Remember the Maine!
Who would not rather flounder in the fight than not have known the glory of the fray?
Spring in the world! And all things are made new!
The great white cold walks abroad!
There is no sorrow like a love denied. Nor any joy like love that has its will.
Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head.
I do not know beneath what sky nor on what seas shall be thy fate; I only know it shall be high, I only know it shall be great.