The Autumn Wind I hear it say,
“Over the hills and far away—
The folded hills that are hedged and green
Where warm little villages huddle between—
Where peeps the spire of a half-hid town—
Over the hills that are furrowed and brown
To the distant hills that are blue and thin
Where the land must end and the sea begin—
Light as a leaf from the wind-blown tree—
Over the hills to the dancing sea—
Chasing your shadow across the sun—
Up little Playfellow! Up and run!”
[Illustration: Art nouveau illustration of a person with wild brown hair
leaping joyfully above a rolling landscape, surrounded by falling leaves
and a large white cloud.]