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