And Echo came back e’en as Oliver drew to the ferry,
“O Katie!” “O Katie!” “Come on, then!” “Come on, then!” “For, see,
The round sun, all red, lying low by the tree”—“by the tree.”
“By the tree.” Ay, she mocked him again, with her voice sweet and merry:
“Hie over!” “Hie over!” “You man of the ferry”—“the ferry.”
“You man of the ferry—you man of—you man of—the ferry.”
Ay, here—it was here that we woke her, the Echo of old;
All life of that day seems an echo, and many times told.
Shall I cross by the ferry to-morrow, and come in my white
To that little old church? and will Oliver meet me anon?