84
A SHEAF GLEANED
THE ROSE AND THE TOMB.
The tomb said to the rose,—
Of the tears the night strows,
What makest thou, O flower of the dawning?
The rose said to the tomb,—
Of what falls in thy womb,
What makest thou, O gulf ever yawning?
The rose whispered—O tomb!
From those tears shed in gloom,
Is the scent famed in song and in story.
The tomb said—O my pet!
Of each soul that I get
I create a winged angel of glory.
