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.