Author Willard Austin Wattles Sometimes when I go At night into my roomAnd press the tiny bulb That sets it all abloom,I think that when I pass Within death's friendly doorThere shall be more of Light Than I have known before. 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