Scottish Poetry Selection
- The Echo
The EchoA sea loch’s inmost bend
Is narrowing to its end;
Beyond, all summer-green, the valley lies
Cradled in Hills -- a Highland paradise.
Here’s to the Clansman’s horn
Echo from echo born
Grows faint and fainter as we tell the score
And fancy to the faintest adds one more.
Now many a winter long
Has slept the echo-song;
A vanished joy - a pretty thing laid by
In some forgotten drawer of memory.
But in my ear tonight
Revives the old delight,
Spontaneous as a morning lark - to start
Long trains of summer echoes in my heart.
Where else would you like to go in Scotland?
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