The Clover Field

I left the crowded cities, With their knowledge and their folly, And wandered down the by-ways, So lonely, wild and free. But not for me the mountain With its peak of purple grandeur, The forest, or the desert, Or the great unresting sea. For in a homely valley The air was sweet with honey, And there the brown Earth-Mother Held a clover field for me.

Heigh-ho! Earth's sweet, red clover And the warmth and kindly healing! I laid me down and listened To the bee's deep, drowsy runes, Till in their rhythmic humming I caught a lilt and cadence (Like elfin bell-notes pealing) Of forgotten cradle tunes.

O not for me the mountain With its peak of purple grandeur. And not for me the desert, Nor the great unresting sea! For in a homely valley With the wise old bees a-humming, The healing, brown Earth-Mother Held a clover field for me.