Poem Lake | Page 574 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

When Night is almost done — When Night is almost done — And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces — It's time to smooth the Hair — And get the Dimples ready — And wonder we could care For that old — faded Midnight... Poet:	When One has given up One's life When One has given up One's life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West The Peaks, that lingered last Remain in Her regret As scarcely as the Iodine ... Poet:	When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done — When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun — The hand that paused to gather Upon this Summer's day Will idle lie — in Auburn — ... Poet:	When the Astronomer stops seeking When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad's Face — When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race When to his Covenant Needle The Sailor doubting turns — It will be amply early ... Poet:
When the voices of children are heard on the green * * * When the voices of children are heard on the green, And whisperings are in the dale, The [desires del.] days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, My face turns green & pale. ... Poet:	When they come back — if Blossoms do — When they come back — if Blossoms do — I always feel a doubt If Blossoms can be born again When once the Art is out — When they begin, if Robins may, I always had a fear I did not tell, it was their... Poet:	When we stand on the tops of Things — When we stand on the tops of Things — And like the Trees, look down — The smoke all cleared away from it — And Mirrors on the scene — Just laying light — no soul will wink Except it have the flaw — ... Poet:	When you look at a picture you always can see *** * *** When you look at a picture you always can see If a Man of Sense has Painted he Then never flinch but keep up a Jaw About freedom & jenny suck awa'^... Poet:
Where bells no more affright the morn — Where bells no more affright the morn — Where scrabble never comes — Where very nimble Gentlemen Are forced to keep their rooms — Where tired Children placid sleep Thro' Centuries of noon This place... Poet:	Where Roses would not dare to go, Where Roses would not dare to go, What Heart would risk the way — And so I send my Crimson Scouts To sound the Enemy — Poet: