The Clover
O ruddy Lover—
O brave red Clover!
Didst think to win her
Thou dost adore?
She will not love thee,
She looks above thee,
The Daisy’s gold doth move her more.
If gold can win her,
Then Love’s not in her;
So leave the Sinner,
And sigh no more!
Source: Bartleby.com (archived copy)