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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK VULTURE by GEORGE STERLING BEAUTIFUL WORLD! by JOHN STUART BLACKIE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE STORM OF WAR by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD HEADS, HEARTS, AND HANDS by GEORGE W. BUNGAY BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF 'I'LL HAVE MY LOVE, OR I'LL HAVE ONE' by PATRICK CAREY |