The little cares that fretted me, I lost them yesterday, Among the fields, above the sea, Among the winds at play; Among the lowing of the herds, The rustling of the trees; Among the singing of the birds, The humming of the bees.
The foolish fears of what may happen, I cast them all away Among the clover-scented grass, Among the new-mown hay; Among the rustling of the corn, Where drowsy poppies nod, Where ill thoughts die and good are born Out in the fields with God.