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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. Theres News, Lasses
  2. Scroggam
  3. The Toast
  4. Where are the Joys
  5. My Wifes a Winsome Wee Thing

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