I Thought I'd Served Her Long Enough

I thought I'd served her long enough, and sat dejected and confused despairing of the lady's love, when something gave my hopes a boost. You'll laugh at me (it seems so small, more of a consolation prize) for taking comfort there at all; but I could feel my fortunes rise. What cheered me was a blade of grass: I measured out a stalk I'd plucked (as children do to learn their luck) and it said she'd offer me her grace. Listen and judge if you think she might: "She will, she won't, she will, she won't, she will." As much as I've tried it, it's come out right, but you have to trust in the grass's skill.