The tomb asked of the rose: "What dost thou with the tears, which dawn Sheds on thee every summer morn, Thou sweetest flower that blows?" The rose asked of the tomb: "What dost thou with the treasures rare, Thou hidest deep from light and air, Until the day of doom?" The rose said: "Home of night, Deep in my bosom, I distil Those pearly tears to scents, that fill The senses with delight." The tomb said: "Flower of love, I make of every treasure rare, Hidden so deep from light and air, A soul for heaven above!"
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