Poem Lake | Page 3 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

There comes an hour when begging stops, There comes an hour when begging stops, When the long interceding lips Perceive their prayer is vain. "Thou shalt not" is a kinder sword Than from a disappointing God "Disciple, call again." Poet:	There is a finished feeling There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves — A leisure of the Future — A Wilderness of Size. By Death's bold Exhibition Preciser what we are And the Eternal function Enabled to... Poet:	There is a June when Corn is cut There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed — A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed As should a Face supposed the Grave's Emerge a single Noon In the Vermilion that it wore... Poet:	There is a Languor of the Life There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain — 'Tis Pain's Successor — When the Soul Has suffered all it can — A Drowsiness — diffuses — A Dimness like a Fog Envelops Consciousness — ... Poet:
There is a morn by men unseen — There is a morn by men unseen — Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May — And all day long, with dance and game, And gambol I may never name — Employ their holiday. Here to light... Poet:	There is a pain — so utter — There is a pain — so utter — It swallows substance up — Then covers the Abyss with Trance — So Memory can step Around — across — upon it — As one within a Swoon — Goes safely — where an open eye — ... Poet:	There is a Shame of Nobleness — There is a Shame of Nobleness — Confronting Sudden Pelf — A finer Shame of Ecstasy — Convicted of Itself — A best Disgrace — a Brave Man feels — Acknowledged — of the Brave — One More — "Ye Blessed... Poet:	There is a solitude of space There is a solitude of space A solitude of sea A solitude of death, but these Society shall be Compared with that profounder site That polar privacy A soul admitted to itself — Finite infinity... Poet:
There is an arid Pleasure — There is an arid Pleasure — As different from Joy — As Frost is different from Dew — Like element — are they — Yet one — rejoices Flowers — And one — the Flowers abhor — The finest Honey — curdled —... Poet:	There is no Frigate like a Book There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry— This Traverse may the poorest take Without opress of Toll— How frugal is the Chariot That... Poet: