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![]() "Flowers sweet and fair, Sir,
Flowers that any Princess might wear, Sir—
A bunch for a penny!" Many a bunch
Must the flower-woman sell, To buy food for herself,
And her children as well.
Upon the broad Embankment You'll find a curious sight,— The children play around it From morning until night; And crowds of grown-up people Come here to see it too, Tis Cleopatra's Needle Folks gather thus to view.
In Mother's pretty work-box There's no such needle shown; This needle, brought from Egypt, Is nothing but a stone. How silently it watches Old Thames go gliding by! " You're very old," the River says, 'But not so old as I."
Think you it longs for Egypt. This wondrous solemn stone, That stands and gazes at us Each day so sad and lone? Ah yes! when London's sleeping, If monuments can dream, It longs for Egypt's palm-trees, And Nile's slow murmuring stream.
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