I and my Irish lover, And strange to say, upon the way, We found a four-leaved clover.
All lovers know the rest.
And all the world was clover. Yet still I sometimes look and smile Upon a faded leaf, And with a tender though beguile My hours of pain and grief. But all the luck we found that day, I often think with wonder, Was in the Fate we both obey Which tore us twain asunder. Back to Top Back to Home From Joy, and Other Poems , by Danske Dandridge. G.P. Putnam's Sons - Knickerbocker Press, 1900.