Frederic Herbert Trench
She Comes Not When Noon Is On The Roses... - Poem by Frederic Herbert Trench
She comes not when Noon is on the roses-
Too bright is Day.
She comes not to the Soul till it reposes
From work and play.
But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices
Roll in from Sea,
By starlight and by candlelight and dreamlight
She comes to me.
Comments about She Comes Not When Noon Is On The Roses... by Frederic Herbert Trench
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You