82 DROPS FROM FLORA'S COP. 
THE FLOWER GIRL OF POMPEII. 
BDLWER. 
Buy my flowers — 0 buy, I pray I 
The blind girl comes from afar; 
If the earth be as fair as I hear them say, 
These flowers her children are! 
Do they her beauty keep ? 
They are fresh from her lap, I know; 
For I caught them fast asleep 
In her lap an hour ago, 
With the air, which is her breath, 
Over them murmuring low! 
On their lips her sweet kiss lingers yet, 
As their cheeks with tender tears are wet: 
For she weeps — that gentle mother weeps, 
As mom and night her watch she keeps 
With a yearning heart and passionate care. 
I see the young things grow so fair; — 
She weeps — for love she weeps 
From the well of a mother’s love! 
Ye have a world of light, 
Where love in the loved rejoices; 
But the blind girl’s home is the home of night 
And its being are empty voices. 
As one in the realm below, 
I stand by the stream of woe; 
I hear the vain shadows glide, 
