The Search
We would lie in the grass and clover
and search for a four-leafed one.
And just the searching together,
even if we found none
would bring me joy and not despair
and never would I complain.
For the four-leafed clover that was absent
would have us try again.
poem by Edwina Reizer

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Four Leaf Clover
I wish I could find
a four-leaf clover
to give me a bit of luck.
Therefore, off I trotted
to have a look.
I found a lot of clover,
but not one
four leafed clover there.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Luck
I sought a four-leaved clover,—
The grass was gemmed with dew,—
I searched the meadow over
To find a four-leaved clover;
I was a lucky rover,—
You sought the charm-grass, too,
And seeking luck and clover
I found it—finding you.
poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 15, Issue 3 (1893)

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Frustration Again
I am lost in the woods
and have found my way
to lie among clover
and spend my day.
The sun overhead is brilliant
and there's not a care in sight.
I will stay in this place gladly
until the approach of night.
I will take a clover home,
one with petals four.
And if it brings me luck
again I will search for more.
But I can't remember
where I was?
And the only thing that
forgetfulness does
is frustrate me today.
poem by Edwina Reizer

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Scythe Song
MOWERS, weary and brown, and blithe,
What is the word methinks ye know,
Endless over-word that the Scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below?
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover,
Something, still, they say as they pass;
What is the word that, over and over,
Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass?
Hush, ah hush, the Scythes are saying,
Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep;
Hush, they say to the grasses swaying;
Hush, they sing to the clover deep!
Hush—’t is the lullaby Time is singing—
Hush, and heed not, for all things pass;
Hush, ah hush! and the Scythes are swinging
Over the clover, over the grass!
poem by Andrew Lang

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Clover, Daisies and Grass
Clover daisies and grass
spread out pink, white and greens
on the carpet in front of me.
A thousand heads of clover
and daisies dotted on the green
as far as the eyes can see.
No sea of turmoil there
as each has its own plot there.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hamlet Micure
In a lingering fever many visions come to you:
I was in the little house again
With its great yard of clover
Running down to the board-fence,
Shadowed by the oak tree,
Where we children had our swing.
Yet the little house was a manor hall
Set in a lawn, and by the lawn was the sea.
I was in the room where little Paul
Strangled from diphtheria,
But yet it was not this room --
It was a sunny verandah enclosed
With mullioned windows,
And in a chair sat a man in a dark cloak,
With a face like Euripides.
He had come to visit me, or I had gone to visit him --
I could not tell.
We could hear the beat of the sea, the clover nodded
Under a summer wind, and little Paul came
With clover blossoms to the window and smiled.
Then I said: "What is 'divine despair,' Alfred?"
"Have you read 'Tears, Idle Tears'?" he asked.
"Yes, but you do not there express divine despair."
"My poor friend," he answered, "that was why the despair
Was divine."
poem by Edgar Lee Masters

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Search Of A Man
I am searching a man
I am in search of a man
And here there is no man.
Village town state
Land water sky
I search out and out
and not found.
Found the dog the cow
The crow the camel
The tiger the snake
No man said Jackal.
I am still searching
Still searching seaching.
I am in search of a man
I am searching a man.
poem by Gajanan Mishra

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

What a miserable thing life is: you're living in clover, only the clover isn't good enough.
quote by Bertolt Brecht

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Walking Thoughts
In my long search for what my hearts longs for,
The wind did saw me and my agony,
Flooded with tears of something not found,
In this incompletion of my life,
So shall my heart look to the stars,
The hope that nature will do wonders,
My walking thoughts keep the search
Im haunted by the memories every night,
My sheets become so cold,
In that shivering moment Im at unrest,
Outside the window are unusual winds,
I know where im at peace,
My thoughts searched and found none,
Walking and walking, remain my thoughts
Walking up and down are my thoughts,
So unfocused like the phantoms,
Searching your presence my love,
Which I know is ever absent
My despair extends my pain,
My walking thoughts so futile,
Searching but to no avail,
Such is my love, seeking yours
poem by Gaylord Munemo

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Clover
Maurice white & larry dunn
Gonna send a message how I feel
To the lady thats for real
Done thought it over
Feels real fine
Her name is clover in my mind
Gotta send this message on my mind
Cant shake this feelin
Aint hard to find,
Oh clover, mystery come to my resque
Make sense of me
Oh think, I love her...
In my hearts...
A clover
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Three Plum Buns
Three plum buns
To eat here at the stile
In the clover meadow,
For we have walked a mile.
One for you, and one for me,
And one left over:
Give it to the boy who shouts
To scare sheep from the clover.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lime Tree
That lime tree on the distant rising ground
(If it was a lime tree) showed her yellow leaves
Above the renewed green of wet August grass--
First Autumn yellow that on first Autumn eves
Too soon was found.
Comfortless lime tree! Scarce an aspen leaf
Like a green butterfly flitted to the ground;
There was no sign of Autumn in the grass.
Even the long garden beds their beauty brief--
Their mignonette,
Nasturtium and sweet-william and red stocks,
And clover crouching in the border grass,
And blood-like fuschia, eve's primrose and white phlox
And honeysuckle--waved all their smell and hue
Morn and eve anew.
But that far lime tree yellowing by the oak,
Warning oak, elm and poplar and each fresh tree
Shaking in the south wind delightedly,
And clover in the closeness of the grass,
Warns also me.
And now when all the trees are standing still
Beneath the purple and white of the west sky,
And time is standing still--as stand it will--
That early yellowing lime with palsied fingers
Cannot be still.
poem by John Freeman

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To make a prairie (1755)
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
poem by Emily Dickinson

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
quote by Emily Dickinson

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Clover
Some sings of the lily, and daisy, and rose,
And the pansies and pinks that the Summertime
throws
In the green grassy lap of the medder that lays
Blinkin' up at the skyes through the sunshiney days;
But what is the lily and all of the rest
Of the flowers, to a man with a hart in his brest
That was 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,
Er fool round a stable, er climb in the mow,
But my childhood comes back jest as clear and as plane
As the smell of the clover I'm sniffin' again;
And I wunder away in a bare-footed dream,
Whare I tangle my toes in the blossoms that gleam
With the dew of the dawn of the morning of love
Ere it wept ore the graves that I'm weepin' above.
And so I love clover--it seems like a part
Of the sacerdest sorrows and joys of my hart;
And wharever it blossoms, oh, thare let me bow
And thank the good God as I'm thankin' Him now;
And I pray to Him still fer the stren'th when I die,
To go out in the clover and tell it good-bye,
And lovin'ly nestle my face in its bloom
While my soul slips away on a breth of purfume
poem by James Whitcomb Riley

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Splendor in the grass
Come; lie with me in the grass
Of summer and feel the cool green
Blades give ground to our presence here.
Smell the white clover my dearest?
Its odoriferous fragrance
Pales by comparison with you.
Look! I see a four-leaf clover,
Though rare, it’s not as rare as you;
I picked you out amongst a crowd
And have been in love ever since.
That sun that kisses these flowers
Is not as warm as your kisses
And the warm rustling summer breeze
Lingers long about your tresses
Stilled by the jealous Aeolus
Who claims all things but you my dear.
poem by Albert Ahearn

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Grass
Laying on the grass my heart it flares like fire
The way you slap my face just fills me with desire
You play hard to get
cause youre teachers pet
But when the boats have gone
Well take a tumble excuse for a fumble
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
If you fancy we can buy an ice-cream cone
Your mate has gone she didnt want to be alone
I will pounce on you
Just us and the cuckoos
You are helpless now
Over and over we flatten the clover
Shocked me too the things we used to do on grass
It would shock you too the things we used to do on grass
Grass, grass.
Things we did on grass
song performed by by Xtc

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
C[l]over Girl after Emily Dickinson - To make a prairie it takes a clover
To make true change it takes a Biden and one B.
One Biden and a B.
And reverie.
But reverie alone won't do
'til Palin's blue.
To make an omelette it takes some milk and one egg.
Some milk and an egg
and gas or light.
With reverie alone make do
if we're not few.
To stake a claim takes some land and one hope.
Some land and a hope,
called reverie.
The reverie alone won't do
with carats few.
To bake a cake it takes...
'and so ad infinitum'
Author notes
C[l]over Girl = Cove Over Cover Lover Clover Girl
[c] Jonathan Robin parody Emily Dickinson first stanza written 1 November 2008 subsequent stanzas added 2 November 2008
robi3_1400
ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_1400_robi1_0000 PWX_JXX Clover Girl_To make true change it takes a Biden and a B
n.b. cove in English may also mean Man
Clover and Bee
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
DICKINSON Emily 1830_1886 dick2_0017_dick2_0000 PXX_NXX To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee_To make a prairie
poem by Jonathan Robin

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Child Dying
Unfriendly friendly universe,
I pack your stars into my purse,
And bid you so farewell.
That I can leave you, quite go out,
Go out, go out beyond all doubt,
My father says, is the miracle.
You are so great, and I so small:
I am nothing, you are all:
Being nothing, I can take this way.
Oh I need neither rise nor fall,
For when I do not move at all
I shall be out of all your day.
It's said some memory will remain
In the other place, grass in the rain,
Light on the land, sun on the sea,
A flitting grace, a phantom face,
But the world is out. There is not place
Where it and its ghost can ever be.
Father, father, I dread this air
Blown from the far side of despair
The cold cold corner. What house, what hold,
What hand is there? I look and see
Nothing-filled eternity,
And the great round world grows weak and old.
Hold my hand, oh hold it fast-
I am changing! - until at last
My hand in yours no more will change,
Though yours change on. You here, I there,
So hand in hand, twin-leafed despair -
I did not know death was so strange.
poem by Edwin Muir

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!