The Echo

A voice speaks to me under the trees Where the brook’s soft murmur flows, In the dusky shadows, in the summer breeze, It returns to me all I know.

Like a loved one’s whisper, at twilight’s call, It stirs the heart’s deepest pride, And it rises, tumbles, and dances all, As I walk through the valley side.

Oh, Echo bright, you mimic what’s said, In the breezy shade or loud street, You carry the laughter, and you bring the dread, But never shall we cease to greet.

• Charles Lamb

• Charles Lamb