Sam Walter Foss

Sam Walter
Foss
1858
1911

American Librarian and Poet

Author Quotes

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.

For men are prone to go it blind along the calf-paths of the mind

He had a startling genius, but somehow it did n't emerge; Always on the evolution of things that would n't evolve; Always verging toward some climax, but he never reached the verge; Always nearing the solution of some theme he could not solve.

I say the very things that make the greatest Stir an' the most interestin' things, are things that didn't occur.

Seek not for fresher founts afar, just drop you bucket where you are.

Strew gladness on the paths of men—You will not pass this way again.

The path that leads to a loaf of bread, Winds through the swamps of toil; And the path that leads to a suit of clothes, Goes through a flowerless soil, and the paths that lead to the loaf of bread, And the suit of clothes are hard to tread.

The woods were made for the hunter of dreams, the brooks for the fishes of song.

There are purple grapes in the Land of Git-Thare.

To do what other men have done. They follow in the beaten track, and out and in, and forth and back, and still their devious course pursue, to keep the path that others do.

We felt the universe wuz safe, an' God wuz on his throne.

A hundred thousand men were led by one calf near three centuries dead; They followed still his crooked way and lost a hundred years a day; For thus such reverence is lent to well-established precedent.

A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead;
They followed still his crooked way
And lost a hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent
To well established precedent.

Seek not for fresher founts afar,
Just drop your bucket where you are;
And while the ship right onward leaps,
Uplift it from the exhaustless deeps.
Parch not your life with dry despair;
The stream of hope flow everywhere--
So under every sky and star,
Just drop your bucket where you are.

"Oh, ship ahoy!" rang out the cry;
"Oh, give us water or we die!"
A voice came o'er the waters far,
"Just drop your bucket where you are."
And then they dipped and drank their fill
Of water fresh from mead and hill;
And then they knew they sailed upon
The broad mouth of the Amazon.

W'en you see a man in woe,
Walk right up and say "hullo."
Say "hullo" and "how d'ye do,"
"How's the world a-usin' you?"
. . .
W'en you travel through the strange
Country t'other side the range,
Then the souls you've cheered will know
Who you be, an' say "hullo."

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 their paths
Where highways never ran,--
But let me live by the side of the road,
And be a friend to man.

The woods were made for the hunter of dreams,
The brooks for the fishers of song;
To the hunters who hunt for the gunless game
The streams and the woods belong.
There are thoughts that moan from the soul of pine
And thoughts in a flower bell curled;
And thoughts that are blown with scent of the fern
Are as new and as old as the world.

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.

Author Picture
First Name
Sam Walter
Last Name
Foss
Birth Date
1858
Death Date
1911
Bio

American Librarian and Poet