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POETRY OF THE ROSE. 



Or, from those infant groups at play 

 Among the tents that line the way, 

 Flinging, unaw'd by slave or mother, 

 Handfuls of Roses at each other ! 



From "Lalla Rookb. 



THE ROSE AND THE TOMB. 



" Thou that dwell'st within my shadow :" 

 To the Rose thus said the Tomb : 

 " Love's flower ! that here in freshness 

 Bloom'st alone amid the gloom : 

 Thou that clingest to the sepulchre. 

 Like a fadeless memory ; 

 What dost thou with the early tears 

 That the morning sheds on thee?" 



Then the Rose, low breathing, answered : 



" I distil a perfume here ; 



And I give its honied fragrance forth 



To the solemn atmosphere. 



And thou, dark Tomb ! discover 



What dost thou, amid thy walls, 



With the pale and silent guests that throng 



Thy ever-opening halls ?" 



And the Tomb said, " Of the beautiful 

 That to mine abode are given, 

 For each pulseless form I yield, O Rose ! 

 An angel soul to Heaven !" 



M. E. Hewitt. 



