Never sleeping, still awake,
Pleasing most when most I speak;
The delight of old and young,
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Never sleeping, still awake,
Pleasing most when most I speak;
The delight of old and young,
Though I speak without a tongue.
Nought but one thing can confound me,
Many voices joining round me,
Then I fret, and rave, and gabble,
Like the labourers of Babel.

What would it profit thee to be the first
Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever,
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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.

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

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

Hark! to the hurried question of Despair
"Where is my child?"--An echo answers--
"Where?"

Hark! to the hurried question of Despair
"Where is my child?"--An echo answers--
"Where?"

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, read more

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

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

And more than echoes talk along the walls.

And more than echoes talk along the walls.

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.