Alfred Tennyson.
SONG.
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv’st unseen
Within thy airy shell
By slow Meander’s margent green,
And in the violet embroider’d vale,
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well;
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?