SWEET CLOVER by RAY CLARKE ROSE

Over and over the scent of sweet clover
Lingers and lures like a half-lost dream,
And seems, under cover of night, like a lover,
To croon to my soul of an old, old theme.
Back from the heydays of childhood's playdays,
Back through the dust and the dearth of the years—
Soft as the fall of a dead leaf—the call of
A voice flutters out of the past—and its tears.

Sweet clover, delicious, if longings that wish us
In the garden of youth could compel, I would lie
In the far wildernesses of blooms whose caresses
Showered joy on my heart where they smiled at the sky;
Where the hollyhocks, standing, still, stately, commanding,
Kept guard over mignonettes, myrtle and all
Of the old-fashioned flowers that gladdened the hours
I dallied and dreamed by the home garden wall.

From the vase where she set them, saying, "Soon you 'll forget them,"
The sweet-clover blooms send their fragrance to me;
But the dear one who placed them, the hands that embraced them,
Are lost to my sight and forever shall be.
Yet over and over the scent of sweet clover
Lingers and lures like a half-lost dream,
And seems, under cover of night, like a lover,
To croon to my soul of an old, old theme.

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