At dusk in a small town, the rector’s attic window shines like a lantern above his dim, windy garden of purple and white flags. Nearby, a red-lit pane and a rosy weathervane catch the last light, while milk-heavy cows move slowly through the air, their bells making the poem’s “tankling-tinkling” sound. That gentle, musical noise carries a deep sadness. The speaker feels that lost beauty and lost laughter are blowing along the walls and wind, just out of reach. Only at the end does the reason become clear: the rector is watching through tears, remembering his little daughter who died many years ago. The evening is lovely, but it is also haunted, and the cowbells sound almost like a quiet elegy for the child he cannot bring back.
Tankle-Tinkle-Tank — Summary
The rector's attic window is a light, Set high on shelf for all the folk to see ; His garden's windy-dim as it can be, Where grow tall flags, some purple and some white. The next house, too, holds one pane clearly red; Three roofs beyond, the vane's a rosy flare; Milk-heavy, slow, through the exquisite air, The cows go tankling-tinkling to the shed. Lost loveliness is broken down the wind; Lost laughters fleet along the blur of wall; — The cows go tankling to the barnyard near; — And cloudy-pale, the shaken flowers behind, The rector sees, through tears that aching fall, His little daughter, dead this many a year.