VAGRANT VERSE
THE CLOVER. Some singe of the lily, and daisy, and roue, And the pansies and pinks that the summertime throws In the green grassy lap of the medder that lays Blinkin’ up at the skies through the sunshiny days; But what is the lily and all of the rest Of the flowers to a man with a heart in his breast That has dipped brimmin’ full of the honey and dew Of the sweet clover-blossoms his babyhood knew ? I never set eyes on a clover-field now, Or fool round a stable, or climb in the mow, But my childhood comes back, just as clear and as plain, As the smell of the clover I’m sniffin’ again. ... Whitcomb Riley.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ST19200603.2.22
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Southland Times, Issue 18838, 3 June 1920, Page 4
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120VAGRANT VERSE Southland Times, Issue 18838, 3 June 1920, Page 4
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