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 husking of the corn, Where the poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born.
Out in the fields with God.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning