Monday, 27 August 2012

The Little Cares.

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. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning


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