Читать книгу Cradle Songs - Various - Страница 5

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Clover, clover in the field,

Why do you hang your head?

Have you done anything unkind?

Or any cross word said?

O no, my little maiden, no!

I only droop with dew;

And from my lips sweet honey drips;

Come, I will share with you.

—C. C. B.