184 SONGS FOR THE

  

MARY DOW.
“Come in, little stranger,” I said,

As she tapped at my half-opened door,
While the blanket pinned over her head
Just reached to the basket she bore.

 

A look full of innocence fell
From her modest and pretty blue eye,

As she said, “ | have matches to sell,

And hope you are willing to buy.

“A penny a bunch is the price,
I think you'll not find it too much ;
They ’re tied up so even and nice,
And ready to light with a touch.”

I asked, “‘ What’s your name, little girl?”
' “’'T is Mary,” she said, “ Mary Dow ;”
And carelessly tossed off a curl

That played o’er her delicate brow.

“My father was lost in the deep.
The ship never got, to the shore ;
And mother is sad, and will weep
When she hears the wind blow and sea roar.

“She sits there at home without food,
Beside our poor sick Willie’s bed ;

She paid all her money for wood,

And so I sell matches for bread.