Charlotte Becker: Echo

“Love said farewell, yet not with moan or tears
Did he recall the gladness of the years
We walked together. With a little laugh—
Ah, but no weeping ever could be half
So sad!—out from my open door he went,
His bowed wings torn, his breathing slow and spent.
And, though I know not whither he is gone,
I hear his laughter from the dusk till dawn!”