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.