ECHO DELL

IN a lone valley fair and far,

Where many sweet beguilements are,

I know a spot to lag and dream

Through damask moms and noons agleam ; For feet fall lightly on the fern

And twilight is a wondrous thing,

When the winds blow from some far boume Beyond the hill rims westering;

There echoes ring as if a throng

Of fairies hid from mortal eyes

Sent laughter back in spirit guise

And song as the pure soul of song;

Oh, ’tis a spot to love right well,

This lonely, witching Echo Dell!

Even the winds an echo know,

Elusive, faint, such as might blow

From wandering elf-land bugles far, Beneath an occidental star;

And I have thought the blue bells lent

A subtle music to my car,

And that the pale wild roses bent

To harken sounds I might not hear.

The tasselled fir trees softly croon

The fabled lore of elder days.

And through the shimmering eastern haze Floats slowly up the mellow moon; Come, heart 0’ mine, for love must dwell In whispering, Witching Echo Dell.

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