Page:History of Oregon Literature.djvu/479

And down underneath is the loveliest nook,
 Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,
 And one is for love, you know,
And God put another one in for luck —
 If you search, you will find where they grow.

But you must have hope, and you must have faith,
 You must love and be strong—and so—
If you work, if you wait, you will find the place
 Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

The Grand Ronde Valley

From a Bunch of Western Clover, 1894

Ah, me! I know how like a golden flower
 The Grand Ronde valley lies this August night,
 Locked in by dimpled hills where purple light
Lies wavering. There at the sunset hour
Sink downward, like a rainbow tinted shower,
 A million colored rays, soft, changeful, bright.
 Later the moon rises, round and white,
And three Blue Mountain pines against it tower,
Lonely and dark. A coyote's mournful cry
 Sinks from the canyon —whence the river leaps,
  A blade of silver underneath the moon.
Like restful seas the yellow wheat-fields lie,
 Dreamless and still. And while the valley sleeps,
  O hear!—the lullabies that low winds croom.

The Lamp in the West

From a Bunch of Western Clover, 1894

Venus has lit her silver lamp
 Low in the purple West,
Breathing a soft and mellow light
 Upon the sea's full breast;
It is the hour when mead and wood
 In fine seed-pearls are dressed.