Poem by Thomas Moore

From “Irish Melodies”. 93. Echo

HOW sweet the answer Echo makes
         To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o’er lawns and lakes,
         Goes answering light.

Yet Love hath echoes truer far,
         And far more sweet,
Than e’er beneath the moonlight’s star,
Of horn or lute, or soft guitar,
         The songs repeat.

’Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere,
         And only then —
The sigh that’s breathed for one to hear,
Is by that one, that only dear,
         Breathed back again!

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 48
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 3
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 57. Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 50
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 70

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