In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.
Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.
On The Death Of A Lap-dog, Named Echo.
Robert Burns
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Poem topics: loss, song, scream, wild, sweet, silent, heavy, sound, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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