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421. Epitaph on a Lap-dog

 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.






Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry