The windows were wide open, and the smell of the purple clover and the humming of the bees were drifting into the sweet, wide spaces within.
"The Old Peabody Pew A Christmas Romance of a Country Church" by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Over the fields of yellowing fall wheat and barley, of grey timothy and purple clover, the heat shimmered in dancing waves.
"Corporal Cameron" by Ralph Connor
Next came a pretty purple pocket-book for Clover.
"What Katy Did" by Susan Coolidge
Purple clover nodding, daisies fresh and white, Would you know the reason all the world is gay?
"The Nursery, Volume 17, No. 101, May, 1875" by Various
When in full flower these are of a beautiful purple crimson, hence, a field of luxuriant red clover is beautiful to look upon.
"Clovers and How to Grow Them" by Thomas Shaw
The purple clover runs riot among the grass.
"Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 20, September, 1877." by Various
The white clover was in the grass, together with the little purple orchid.
"Moth and Rust" by Mary Cholmondeley
Powdered and perfumed the full bee
Winged heavily across the clover,
And where the hills were dim with dew,
Purple and blue the west leaned over.
"The Lanawn Shee" by Francis Ledwidge
And lovers, who have wandered through
The clover-purple evening’s peace,
Have seen, deep-breasted, insolent,
The mocking loveliness of Greece —
"Half Moon" by Robin Hyde
Where sleek red kine, and dappled, crunch day-long
Thick, luscious blades and purple clover-heads,
Nigh me I still can mark
Cool fields of beaded grass.
"Fog" by Emma Lazarus
Ay; and where the poppies burn,
All across the dreamy downs,
Little wings that flutter and beat
O'er the sweet
Bluffs the purple clover crowns.
"Butterflies" by Alfred Noyes
OH, to be in Canada now that Spring is merry,
Happy apple blossoms gay against the smiling green;
Here the lilac's purple plume and here the pink of cherry,
Hillsides just a drift of bloom with clover in between!
"From The Trenches" by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
Over the fields we go, through the sweets of the purple clover,
That letters a message for us as for every vagrant rover;
Before us the dells are abloom, and a leaping brook calls after,
Feeling its kinship with us in lore of dreams and laughter.
"The Rovers" by Lucy Maud Montgomery