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.

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.

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 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.

And more than echoes talk along the walls.

And more than echoes talk along the walls.

Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far,
The voice divine of human loyalty.

Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far,
The voice divine of human loyalty.

Like--but oh! how different!

Like--but oh! how different!

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.