2 As true’s—as true as,

FOR CHILDREN.

All a-row with spirits blithe,
Now we whet the bended scythe,

Rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink-a-tink !

Side by side, now bending low,

Down the swaths! of barley go,
Stroke by stroke, as true’s* the chime
Of the bells, we keep in time ;

Then we whet the ringing scythe,
Standing ’mong the barley lithe,’

Rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink-a-tink !

Barley-mowers must be true,
Keeping still the end in view,
One with all, and all with one,
Working on till set of sun,
Bending all with spirits blithe,
Whetting all at once the scythe,

Rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink-a-tink !

Day and night, and night and day,
Time, the mower, will not stay ;
We may hear him in our path

By the falling barley swath ;
While we sing with voices blithe,
We may hear his ringing scythe,

Rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink, rink-a-tink-a-tink

Time, the mower, cuts down all,
High and low, and great and small;
Learn we then for him to grow
Ready, like the fieid we mow,

29

! Swaths—lines of grass or corn cut down by the mower.
3 Lithemflexible, waving.