The poplars in the fields of France br Are golden ladies come to dance; br But yet to see them there is none br But I and the September sun. br br The girl who in their shadow sits br Can only see the sock she knits; br Her dog is watching all the day br That not a cow shall go astray. br br The leisurely contented cows br Can only see the earth they browse; br Their piebald bodies through the grass br With busy, munching noses pass. br br Alone the sun and I behold br Processions crowned with shining gold -- br The poplars in the fields of France, br Like glorious ladies come to dance.