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6
THE ECHO.
When the shadows of evening fell low on the earth,
As I wearied of sadness, yet wished not for mirth,
Then I climbed the steep side of the mount old and bare,
Whose dark, slender top seemed to cleave the blue air,
And all sadly I mused on the death of my love,
Looking down upon forest, and meadow, and grove,
And I cried with a passionate burst of despair,
“Where again can I see her? Oh, tell me but where!
But the merciless heaven my cry will not hear!”
Then the lone mountain-echo gave answer,—“Not here.”
As I wearied of sadness, yet wished not for mirth,
Then I climbed the steep side of the mount old and bare,
Whose dark, slender top seemed to cleave the blue air,
And all sadly I mused on the death of my love,
Looking down upon forest, and meadow, and grove,
And I cried with a passionate burst of despair,
“Where again can I see her? Oh, tell me but where!
But the merciless heaven my cry will not hear!”
Then the lone mountain-echo gave answer,—“Not here.”
And again I cried forth, all my soul in the cry,
To the mounts, and the woods, and the gold-tinted sky,
“I am sad, I am weary of all this world's strife,
And I yearn to meet her in a happier life.
Shall I e'er see again my youth's hope, my one love?
Oh, now answer, ye heavens, that smile so above!”
And the lone mountain-echo gave answer,—“Above!”
To the mounts, and the woods, and the gold-tinted sky,
“I am sad, I am weary of all this world's strife,
And I yearn to meet her in a happier life.
7
Oh, now answer, ye heavens, that smile so above!”
And the lone mountain-echo gave answer,—“Above!”
October 12th, 1863.
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