WILD FLOWERS. 29 
The Flower Girl’s Song. 
Tender flowers! tender flowers! 
Fresh, and dripping wet! 
Tears of morning’s earliest showers 
On their faces yet, 
Bursting bud, and fuller blossom, 
Tender flowers for lady’s bosom! 
Boses for a maiden’s brow, 
Red, and ripe, and sweet, 
There they ’ll almost seem to blow 
On their native seat: 
Maiden, buy my dripping roses, 
Bright as those your cheek discloses. 
Here are lilies of the valley. 
Sweetest odor! they were grown 
In a dark and leafy alley, 
I discovered it alone: 
Ladies! if it be your pleasure, 
Buy this bunch of scented treasure. 
