114 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 "L.ALLA ROOKH.' 



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. 



