Shamrock/Seamróg

I have a uniqueness to whom none can measure,
People will hunt me at their own amusing leisure,
I am a towering stem where four leaves bind,
I am a purebred of my own dependent line,
My roots are dug deep into the earth,
Only entertained by my own exuberant mirth,
But here I am standing aground
Gazing at the first rays of morning tiptoeing forward without any sound,
I have a memory of a place where the sun shines like gold,
A field deftly swaying to the peaceful hum of the wind,
Persian, pistachio, pigment and pine,
These are the colours that are all mine,
They call it the "Emerald Isle" you know,
A place where there is scattered snow,
A land of divisions where religion stole lives,
But this is the place where my roots lie,