 | Poems |  |
XXVII
[It was a bowl of roses]
It was a bowl of roses:
There in the light they lay,
Languishing, glorying, glowing
Their life away.
There in the light they lay,
Languishing, glorying, glowing
Their life away.
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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?
Into me crept and grew,
And filled me with something—some one—
O, was it you?
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