Explore "WOOD-FOLK LORE. To T. B. M" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For every one / Beneath the sun, / Where Autumn walks with quiet eyes, / There is a word, / Just overheard / When hill to purple hill replies.
This afternoon, / As warm as June, / With the red apples on the bough, / I set my ear / To hark and hear / The wood-folk talking, you know how.