Frederick Tennyson

What would it profit thee to be the first Of echoes tho thy tongue should live forever A thing that answers but hath not a thought As lasting but as senseless as a stone.

What would it profit thee to be the first Of echoes, tho thy tongue should live forever, A thing that answers, but hath not a thought As lasting but as senseless as a stone.

Softly the loud peal dies, In passing winds it drowns, But breathes, like perfect joys, Tender tones.