There’s a witch in the meadow, I’ve hunted all over.
But never have found her, shy four-leaved clover!
She can tell—how entrancing—if lovers are true!
Though distance may part them, she has them in view!

All the other gay fairies came trooping around me;
Wild columbines, dancing because they had found me;
Sweet buttercups gave me a drink from their chalice.
But, witch of the meadow, where, where is your palace?

My heart holds a secret I’d whisper to you;
0, fairy witch, tell me, please tell me it’s true;
I’ll whisper it softly, now fairy, believe me,
It’s so heavenly sweet, if untrue it will grieve me.

He says I’m the first one, he ever called “dear,”
Or kissed in the moonlight; he’s lying, I fear!
He’s a wonderful person, this lover so bold.
But, if he’s loved others, can I his love hold?

0 witch, come and tell me; Love oft is a rover,
Is mine staunch and true, fairy four-leaved clover?
Ah, here she is standing, just where I would tread.
And smiles a sweet answer. Thanks, witch, we will