On the Death of a Lapdog, Named Echo (Poem by Robert Burns)

Old Poem

On the Death of a Lapdog, Named Echo
By Robert Burns


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.

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