I've been thinking for a while
About schoolyards full of clover
And the man who comes to mow it
Every Thursday afternoon.
He knows that, once he's done it,
He'll have to do it over;
He'll have to mow it down again,
And do it soon.
But the clover doesn't know it--
The clover only blossoms--
All it knows to do
Is what nature had in mind.
It only knows to flower
No matter what besets it
And hope that it is easy
For willing bees to find.
We, too, should be like clover--
Everyone should learn to flower
No matter what besets us
Or ruins our day.
For the sun just keeps on shining
And the man just keeps on mowing
And the clover keeps on growing
In the same old way.
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