THE splendour falls on castle walls

    And snowy summits old in story:

    The long light shakes across the lakes,

    And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.



    O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,

    And thinner, clearer, farther going!

    O sweet and far from cliff and scar

    The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.



    O love, they die in yon rich sky,

    They faint on hill or field or river:

    Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

    And grow for ever and for ever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.