I’OETET OP FLOWERS. 225 
Up, tlien ! and cheerfully, 
Trust me, there lies, 
Much that is beautiful— 
’Neath the broad skies! 
Go on life’s pilgrimage, 
Hand lock’d in hand, 
A hopeful—a jubilant. 
Brotherly band. 
Looking for flowers! 
CRY OF THE SPRING FLOWER 
SELLER. 
Violets, violets—here, see, I bring; 
Primroses, wet from the woods of the spring; 
Lilies, the whitest that silver our vallies ; 
Come out from your courts, from the gloom of 
your alleys— 
Buy my flowers I 
Here’s pleasures a selling! my blossoms come 
buy— 
Cheap enough for the low, choice enough for the 
high— 
Buy my flowers! 
F 
121 
