I found myself intoning lines from Longfellow's "Evangeline" with the very feel of the forest primeval all around us, indistinct in the twilight.
The trees and even the weeds were standing like the Druids of eld, though the voices sad and prophetic primarily belonged to the cows, since there wasn't much wind.
Even the bright berries had hoary beards.
I knew that I had memorized great sections of "The Song of Hiawatha" as a child, but it was a surprise to tease "Evangeline" out of my memory as we walked along. I didn't recall having memorized any of it!!