[Poems by Woolson in] Five generations (1785-1923) being scattered chapters from the history of the Cooper, Pomeroy, Woolson and Benedict families, with extracts From their Letters and Journals, as well as articles and poems by Constance Fenimore Woolson |
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FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER. |
 | [Poems by Woolson in] Five generations (1785-1923) |  |
FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.
She journeyed north, she journeyed south,
The whole bright land she wandered over,
And climbed the mountains white with snow,
And sought the plains where palm trees grow—
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
The whole bright land she wandered over,
And climbed the mountains white with snow,
And sought the plains where palm trees grow—
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
Then to the seas she spread her sail,
Fled round the world—a white-winged rover,
Her small foot pressed the Grecian grass—
She saw Egyptian temples pass—
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
Fled round the world—a white-winged rover,
Her small foot pressed the Grecian grass—
She saw Egyptian temples pass—
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
The costliest gems shone on her brow,
The ancient Belgian spinners wove her
A rope of lace a queen might wear—
Her eyes found all most rich, most rare
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
The ancient Belgian spinners wove her
A rope of lace a queen might wear—
Her eyes found all most rich, most rare
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
The throng did flock to see her pass,
To hear her speak,—and all men strove her
Smile to win; she had the whole
Of each one's life and heart and soul—
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
To hear her speak,—and all men strove her
Smile to win; she had the whole
Of each one's life and heart and soul—
But—never found the four-leaved clover.
A storm flew down and tore her sail,
A biting tempest came and drove her
Homeward, bereft, alone and poor,
The fair friends fled, the journeyings o'er
That never found the four-leaved clover.
A biting tempest came and drove her
Homeward, bereft, alone and poor,
The fair friends fled, the journeyings o'er
That never found the four-leaved clover.
| [Poems by Woolson in] Five generations (1785-1923) | |