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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.



Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. The Cairds Second Song
  2. The Sailors Song
  3. Had I The Wyte
  4. The Rantin Dog the Daddie Ot
  5. The Toast


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