The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy. [ Emily Dickinson ]

O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!

Of bard and chief. Old Erin's native Shamrock. [ Moore ]

I'll seek a four-leaved shamrock in all the fairy dells,
And if I find the charmed leaves, oh, how I'll weave my spells! [ Samuel Lover ]

There's no dew left on the daisies and clover; there's no rain left in heaven. [ Jean Ingelow ]