Author W. E. Henley It was a bowl of roses: There in the light they lay, Languishing, glorying, glowing Their life away. And the soul of them rose like a presence, Into me crept and grew, And filled me with something—some one— O, was it you? Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments