I Wonder What the Clover Thinks
Intimate friend of bobolinks,
Lover of daisies slim and white,
Waltzer with buttercups at night;
Keeper of inn for travelling-bees,
Serving to them wine-dregs and lees
Left by the royal humming-birds,
Who sip, and pay with fine-spun words;
Fellow with all the loveliest,
Peer of the gayest and the best;
Comrade of wind, beloved of sun,
Kissed by the dew-drops one by one;
Prophet of good-luck mystery
By sign of four, which few may see;
Sweet by the roadsides, sweet by rills,
Sweet in the meadows, sweet on hills,
Sweet in white, sweet in its red,
Oh! half its sweet cannot be said.
— Saxe Holm, a.k.a. Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)
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