A FIELD of scented clover
That honey-bees hang over,
A hazel-wood in Spring,
Where thrush and robin sing.
A stream that seaward flows.
Rejoicing as it goes,
A little tower where dwells
The sound of happy bells.
A morning fresh and blue,
Flower-decked, and wet with dew,
All these my love she minds me of-
And other sweet things too.