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How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she read more
How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light.
I heard . . .
. . . the great echo flap
And buffet round the hills read more
I heard . . .
. . . the great echo flap
And buffet round the hills from bluff to bluff.
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.
Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.
I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my
youth, where are they?"--and an read more
I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my
youth, where are they?"--and an echo answered, "Where are they?"
Like--but oh! how different!
Like--but oh! how different!
And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke
From the red-ribb'd hollow behind the wood,
And thunder'd up read more
And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke
From the red-ribb'd hollow behind the wood,
And thunder'd up into Heaven.
Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors.
- Barry Cornwall (pseudonym of Bryan Waller Procter),
Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors.
- Barry Cornwall (pseudonym of Bryan Waller Procter),
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had read more
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the
silence.
What would it profit thee to be the first
Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever,
read more
What would it profit thee to be the first
Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever,
A thing that answers, but hath not a thought
As lasting but as senseless as a stone.