ECHO AND THE LOVER
[From The Poets and Poetry of the West, edited by W. T. Coggeshall (Columbus, Ohio, 1860)]
Lover. Echo! mysterious nymph, declare
Of what you're made and what you are—
Echo. "Air!"
Lover. 'Mid airy cliffs, and places high,
Sweet Echo! listening, love, you lie—
Echo. "You lie!"
Lover. You but resuscitate dead sounds—
Hark! how my voice revives, resounds!
Echo. "Zounds!"
Lover. I'll question you before I go—
Come, answer me more apropos!
Echo. "Poh! poh!"
Lover. Tell me, fair nymph, if e'er you saw
So sweet a girl as Phoebe Shaw!
Echo. "Pshaw!"
Lover. Say, what will win that frisking coney
Into the toils of matrimony!
Echo. "Money!"
Lover. Has Phoebe not a heavenly brow?
Is it not white as pearl—as snow?
Echo. "Ass, no!"
Lover. Her eyes! Was ever such a pair?
Are the stars brighter than they are?
Echo. "They are!"