Explore "Echoes From Erin" by Annie Fellows Johnston on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
ACROSS old Purple Mountain I hear a bugle call, / And down the rocks, like water, the echoes leap and fall.
One note alone can startle the voices of the peaks, / And waken songs of Erin, whene'er the bugle speaks.
They call and call and call, / Until the voices all / Ring down the dusky hollows and in the distance fall.
Methinks, like Purple Mountain, the past will sometimes rise, / And memory's call awaken its echoing replies.
Within the tower of Shandon again the bells will sway, / And follow, with their ringing, the Lee upon its way, / And chime and chime and chime, / Where ivy tendrils climb, / Till bells and river mingle to sound the silvery rhyme.
Again the daisied grasses beside the castle walls / Will stir with softest sighing, to hear the wind's footfalls; / And through the moss-grown abbey, along Killarney's shore, / The melodies of Erin will echo evermore, / And roll and roll and roll, / Till spirit hands shall toll / The music of the uplands unto the listening soul.
_Killarney, Ireland._