Some sings of the lily, and daisy, and rose, br And the pansies and pinks that the Summertime br throws br In the green grassy lap of the medder that lays br Blinkin' up at the skyes through the sunshiney days; br But what is the lily and all of the rest br Of the flowers, to a man with a hart in his brest br That was dipped brimmin' full of the honey and dew br Of the sweet clover-blossoms his babyhood knew? br I never set eyes on a clover-field now, br Er fool round a stable, er climb in the mow, br But my childhood comes back jest as clear and as plane br As the smell of the clover I'm sniffin' again; br And I wunder away in a bare-footed dream, br Whare I tangle my toes in the blossoms that gleam br With the dew of the dawn of the morning of love br Ere it wept ore the graves that I'm weepin' above.