 | Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] |  |
89
THE FLOWER GIRL'S SONG.
Fair lady, buy my flowers,
Like thine are their sunlit hours;
They bloom and they vie
With thy cheek and eye,
Yet alas! with a sigh they fade.
Like thine are their sunlit hours;
They bloom and they vie
With thy cheek and eye,
Yet alas! with a sigh they fade.
Come buy, oh! buy my flowers,—
Ere yet the storm-cloud lowers,
And their leaves are cast
On the wintry blast,
To wither and die on earth's breast.
Ere yet the storm-cloud lowers,
And their leaves are cast
On the wintry blast,
To wither and die on earth's breast.
Then lady, buy my flowers;—
Thine, thine are the golden hours;
Nor pass me thus by
With averted eye,—
For alas! with a sigh they fade.
Thine, thine are the golden hours;
Nor pass me thus by
With averted eye,—
For alas! with a sigh they fade.
| Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] | |