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 might pass,
Among the clover-scented grass,
Among the new-mown hay,
Among the hushing of the corn
Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born -
Out in the fields with God.
Offline
Share This
RSS Feed
Send Message
Add to Friends
Subscribe
Block Writer
Flag Writer
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
