Explore "Bloodroot" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When April winds arrive / And the soft rains are here, / Some morning by the roadside / These Fairy folk appear.
We never see their coming, / However sharp our eyes; / Each year as if by magic / They take us by surprise.
Along the ragged woodside / And by the green spring-run, / Their small white heads are nodding / And twinkling in the sun.
They crowd across the meadow / In innocence and mirth, / As if there were no sorrow / In all this wondrous earth.
So frail, so unregarded, / And yet about them clings / A sorcery of welcome, -- / The joy of common things.
Perhaps their trail of beauty / Across the pasture sod / In jubilant procession / Is where an angel trod.