All Quiet along the Potomac and other poems/Four-leaved Clover

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FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.


"FAIR Jennie Bell, what are you seeking?
 And why are you bending your head
As you slowly walk over the highway?"
 "Just seeking luck-clover," she said.


"Then what will you do with it, Jennie,
 When found, the small treasure you seek?"
"Ah, a clover, four-leaved, is so lucky
 To wear with a wish for a week."

"Just beside you I spy out one nodding;"
 Her eager hands caught it with care.
I heard, I am sure, a small whisper,
 And pink flushed the forehead so fair

As she kissed the leaf, tenderly laying
 Its quadruple petals in place
In the narrow-arched sole of her slipper,
 With hopeful content on her face.

* * * * *


The world wore its garlands of verdure,
 Its crowns, mingled roses and rue,
Many times ere I met little Jennie—
 Not "Bell" any longer, I knew.

Ah, the face had grown wan and despairing,
 The hand very slender and weak
That extended itself for the token
 I gathered, my greetings to speak.

"Did it bring you good luck, little Jennie,
 The wish of your heart, Jennie dear?"
As she stooped o'er the bunch of green leaflets
 I saw the swift shine of a tear;

And I saw, in that globule of sorrow
 (Sad lens made of pitiful rain)

Shining still on the handful of clover
 Poor Love, smitten, bleeding, and slain,

Ere she said, " When I'm resting for ever
 You'll plant these out over my bed,
And I'll find the good luck at the rootlets
 I've missed in the world overhead."