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Updated: April 30, 2025
They were talking to each other now in the words of her father's song. Very likely he had heard them saying it sometime, and that was how he happened to know it, "O what is it shineth so golden-clear At the rainbow's foot on the dark green hill?" Flax heard the maple leaves inquire.
The leaves all tossed about in a strong wind and their soft rustles grew into a roar, and the branches and the whole tree caught it up and called out so loud as they writhed and twisted about that Flax was almost deafened, the words of the song: "O what is it shineth so golden-clear?" Flax sped along through the wind and the rain and the thunder.
The poem ran something in this way: O what is it shineth so golden-clear At the rainbow's foot on the dark green hill? 'Tis the Pot of Gold, that for many a year Has shone, and is shining and dazzling still. And whom is it for, O Pilgrim, pray? For thee, Sweetheart, should'st thou go that way. Flax listened with her soft blue eyes very wide open.
The rain-drops on the trees began to shine like diamonds, and the words of the song rushed out from their midst, louder and sweeter: "O what is it shineth so golden-clear?" Flax climbed for dear life. Red and green and golden rays were already falling thick around her, and at the foot of the pine-tree something was shining wonderfully clear and bright.
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