  The clovers have no time to play: They feed the cows and make the hay, And trim the lawns and help the bees, Until the sun sinks through the trees. And then they lay aside their cares, And fold their hands to say their prayers, And drop their tired little heads, And go to sleep in clover beds. Then when the day dawns clear and blue They wake and wash their hands in dew; And as the sun climbs up the sky They hold them up and let them dry; And then to work the whole long day: For clovers have no time to play. —Helena Leeming Jelliffe. Copyright, 1902, The Outlook Company. |
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