Among the number who took their way onward through one of the long narrow streets, were two girls carrying a basket of flowers between them, and thus singing as they went of the sweet burden they bore.
FLOWER GIRLS' SONG.
Oh, the flowers of spring! the sweet-smelling flowers,
Gay-robed companions of life's happy hours:
They have come again to visit us here;
They have come hand in hand with the young bright year.
Oh, flowers! Buy my flowers!
Oh, the flowers of spring! the beautiful flowers,
In garlands we twined them in infancy's hours;
And every blossom we strung on the wreath
Was like the sweet moments that flew beneath.
Oh, flowers! Buy my flowers!
Oh, the flowers of spring! the beautiful flowers,
They have wreathed the door-posts of love's own bowers;
They have given their breath to the lover's sigh,
And their hues to the loved one's cheek and eye.