The Tomb And The Rose (After Victor Hugo.)

The Tomb said to the Rose :

O Flower of Love, where goes

Each tear which Dawn upon thy cheeks doth

shed?

The Rose said to the Tomb :

What makest in thy gloom

Impenetrable of the countless dead?

Said the Rose : O Tomb, of all these tears,

In my recesses ere the sun appears,

I make a perfume which the gods will prize.

Said the Tomb : O plaintive Flower,

Of every mortal I devour

An angel do I make for Paradise.