Rattle of corn in the old feed-box,
Answering nicker at toss of hay—
Old sweet sounds of a far-off day.
There, my driver stops with a jerk;
Then far aloft to the scene of my work;
But all day long midst the city's roar
My heart is the heart of a boy once more,
My feet in old-time fields astray,
Lured—by the scent from a load of hay!