


162 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Come, make your close rooms and your dark win« 
dows gay, 
With thoughts of their dwellings on banks far 
away 3 
And the hours of work, long so sluggish for many 
a day, 
Through the thoughts that they bring, shall trip 
lightly away— 
Buy my flowers! 
And into the heart of the city they’ll bring 
The country, the meadows, the woodlands, and 
Spring ; 
Pleasant hours you spent in the green fields long 
ago, 
On stiles that you loved, and in lanes well you 
know— 
Come and buy ! 
The poorest may-buy them, the richest theyll 
please— 
There’s ne’er a one sells brighter blossoms than 
these— 
There’s ne’er a one sells such sweet flowers as — 
Buy my flowers ! 
