Poem by Robert Burns

On the Death of a Lap-dog: Named Echo

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.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Gala Water
3. Blythe Was She
4. Stay My Charmer
5. The Flowery Banks of Cree

Print

2875 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version