15
CLOVER.
“Clover, clover, answer me–
Which are best—four leaves, or three?”
And the clover blossom white,
Smiling in the morning light,
Answered, “Four I love the best–
Fortune-favoured, fame-caressed;
Sought for like a fairy spell,
’Neath the hedge and round the well;
Gathered from the common field,
In a chested letter sealed;
Sentaway across the sea
Like a wand of destiny;
Treasured, honoured, near and far,
My own, my bright four-pointed star!”
“Clover, at my garden door,
Which are best–three leaves, or four?”
And the clover at my feet,
In the evening cool and sweet,
Answered, “Now my day is done,
Now my star his fame has won,
Sad were I, and desolate
In my corner by the gate,
But for these, his three-leaved brothers,
