Echoes
How sweet the answer
Echo makes to music at night,
When roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away over lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light!
Yet love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet
Than ever, beneath the moonlight's star,
Of horn or lute or soft guitar
The songs repeat.
'Tis when the sigh,- in youth sincere
And only then-
The sigh that is breathed for one to hear,
Is by that one, that only Dear
Breathed back again.
How sweet the answer
Echo makes to music at night,
When roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away over lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light!
Yet love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet
Than ever, beneath the moonlight's star,
Of horn or lute or soft guitar
The songs repeat.
'Tis when the sigh,- in youth sincere
And only then-
The sigh that is breathed for one to hear,
Is by that one, that only Dear
Breathed back again.
This is one of my favourite poems by Thomas Moore. Perfectly, this poem illustrates my university days. Some of my university friends used to play guitar and sang songs at girl hostals or boarding houses at night.
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