Atinkle

The mountain vale, arousing Ocean, sings, And all the air’s a-tinkle as with strings;

1894, Kenneth Grahame, “The Fairy Wicket” in Pagan Papers, London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, p. 91, […] every copse and hedge-row seems a-tinkle with faint elfish laughter.

O Love! were you the hooded hawk upon my hand that flutters, Its collar-band of gleaming bells atinkle as I ride,

Impossibles march gaily for Gay Pride, ashaming any spectator a marcher would yearn to be matey with, mincing atinkle with bangles and lavender marcel

Somewhere inside a full-mouthed bell tolled; its reverberations set the chandelier a-tinkle […]