The little cares which 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 come, I cast them all away Among the clover scented grass, Among the new mown hay; Among the hushing of the corn, Where drowsing poppies nod, Ill thoughts can die, and good be born, Out in the fields of God.
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