Whoa,"—cling, clang,—"my bay!
An' the sorrel an' black, now my sons are
back,
Can be shod "—cling, clang,—"to-day."
X.
Oh! the smith's sons planted the fairy seeds
When the light, green spring came round,
Through the sunlit hours, 'twixt the April
showers,
In the best of the garden ground.