16
Who, while he brought joy to others,
Nestled closely round my feet,
Sheltered me from noonday heat;
Sought no wondrous destiny,
Only stayed to comfort me,"
“Clover, clover, answer me—
Which are best—four leaves, or three ?"
And the clover, softly sighing,
Answered, “Now that I am dying,
One is far and many near.
He is precious, all are dear.
Four leaves seem to be completest;
Three leaves somehow seem the sweetest.”
Thus it is the wide world over—
Some will be the four-leaved clover,
Go where high awards await,
While others grace the cottage gate.
And high or lowly, great or small,
The God who made will bless them all.
