32
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—
Then take my flowers—pray!
Emily Dickinson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-roses-cease-to-bloom-sir/
