The Marigold Among the Clovers

There are clovers everywhere

Green clovers

Gold clovers

Four-leaf luck-filled clovers

Shy little three-leaf clovers

Sprawling all across the dell;

All is fine and well;

The rivers and streams swell

And the skies do tell

That the rains are over

The clouds are sober

And the magenta reds

And golden yellows

And violet blues

Come out in many hues

smiling under the sun

about something sort of fun

And something true;

Yes, very true:

The leprechauns tell

That if you run, run, run,

Run faster, under, over

All the hills

And all the dells

Past the four-leaf luck-filled clovers

Before the day is over

Then you’ll see a dragon sleeping

And you’ll have to start a-creeping

Past the dragon

Past the clovers

Halfway there,

past the dragon’s lair

past the sirens singing, weeping,

past the unicorns a-prancing

past the clover-covered dells—

you’ll meet leprechauns a-dancing

with green hats jumping, falling,

and the four-leaf clovers scattering

as they dance around the pot.

The pot of what?

Of something more than clovers

That a dragon would watch over

And the leprechauns would guard

With all their might

Lest it take flight

With those like you and me

Who come wishing just to see

The pot of gold

The marigold

That sits among the clovers.

But when you run on past the dells

Be quick and fast, my dear—

When the rainbow’s smile is over

And the clouds are all but sober

And the sky is clouded over

Then the hues will fade away

And the sun will call a day

and the pot of gold

of marigold

that sits among the four-leaf clovers

will vanish . . . straight away.