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A Child's Own Book of Verse II by  Ada M. Skinner

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WHEN THE COWS COME HOME

[8]

With klingle, klangle, klingle,

Way down the dusty dingle

The cows are coming home;


How sweet and clear, and faint and low,

The airy tinklings come and go,

Like chimings from some far-off tower,

Or patterings of an April shower

That makes the daisies grow—


Ko-kling ko-klang, koklingle lingle,

Way down the darkening dingle

The cows come slowly home.

With a klingle, klangle, klingle,

With a loo-oo and moo-oo and jingle

The cows are coming home:


And over there on Merlin's hill

Hear the plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will,

The dewdrops lie on the tangled vines,

And over the poplar Venus shines

And over the silent mill.


Ko-ling, ko-lang, kolingle lingle

With a ting-a-ling and jingle

The cows come slowly home.


Let down the bars, let in the strain

Of long-gone songs, and flowers and rain;

For dear old times come back again

When the cows come home.

—AGNES MITCHELL.


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