And more than echoes talk along the walls.

And more than echoes talk along the walls.

Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.

Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,
And feeds her grief.

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.

Like--but oh! how different!

Like--but oh! how different!

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),

Let echo, too, perform her part,
Prolonging every note with art;
And in a low expiring strain,
read more

Let echo, too, perform her part,
Prolonging every note with art;
And in a low expiring strain,
Play all the comfort o'er again.

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.

Echo waits with art and care
And will the faults of song repair.

Echo waits with art and care
And will the faults of song repair.

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.