When, if Ever Poem by Donald Benson Blanding

When blood is water; when the call of spring
Falls dully on my ears; when everything
Is just one heavy monotone of gray
And dawn's a torture, meaning 'here's a day
To live in weary waiting for the night
With sleep to blot all beauty from my sight';
When tears and love and laughter are the same;
When life's a task and not a joyous game;
When living's but a race without a goal;
When I am old in body, heart, and soul;
When all I know as me in me has fled;
Then, and then only, will I say, 'God Pan is dead!'