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148
THE FLOWER-GIRL.
Come, see my basket of flowers!
At home with me some of them grew,
In that little garden of ours,
And some in the wilds I roam through.
The sun just peeped o'er the hills,
And smiled on valleys and streams,
When I gathered flowers by the rills,
That shone like gold in his beams!
Bright with silvery dew,
Fresh, and fragrant, and rare,
They 're all assorted for you,—
If you 've some farthings to spare.
At home with me some of them grew,
In that little garden of ours,
And some in the wilds I roam through.
The sun just peeped o'er the hills,
And smiled on valleys and streams,
When I gathered flowers by the rills,
That shone like gold in his beams!
Bright with silvery dew,
Fresh, and fragrant, and rare,
They 're all assorted for you,—
If you 've some farthings to spare.
O, who could make such a rose?—
A jasmine, or lily, so fair?—
Or violets lovely as those,
To bloom in your hand or your hair?
A flower but once made to live,
And pour sweet spice from its heart,
Though now it were dead, I'd not give
For all the mimics of art!
Who will buy my young flowers,
Nursed by Nature, and fed
With air, with sun, and the showers,
While children cry for their bread?
A jasmine, or lily, so fair?—
Or violets lovely as those,
To bloom in your hand or your hair?
A flower but once made to live,
And pour sweet spice from its heart,
Though now it were dead, I'd not give
For all the mimics of art!
Who will buy my young flowers,
Nursed by Nature, and fed
With air, with sun, and the showers,
While children cry for their bread?
149
Good by! Each floweret is sold,
And home to my mother I'll go.
'T is well as if silver or gold
Were digged where the budding things grow.
I know how mother will say,
With glistening tear in her eye,
“'T was manna that fell on the way
Of Israel ready to die.”
Dreams will take me to-night
Up to Paradise bowers,
Where father 's blest with the sight
Of Him who gives us the flowers!
And home to my mother I'll go.
'T is well as if silver or gold
Were digged where the budding things grow.
I know how mother will say,
With glistening tear in her eye,
“'T was manna that fell on the way
Of Israel ready to die.”
Dreams will take me to-night
Up to Paradise bowers,
Where father 's blest with the sight
Of Him who gives us the flowers!
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