Song
THE clover blossoms kiss her feet,
She is so sweet,
While I, who may not kiss her hand,
Bless all the wild flowers in the land.
Soft sunshine falls across her breast,
She is so blest.
I’m jealous of its arms of gold,
Oh that these arms her form might fold!
Gently the breezes kiss her hair,
She is so fair.
Let flowers and sun and breezes go by,
O dearest! Love me or I die.
OSCAR LAIGHTON
