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1859–1930

THE ECHO

Arthur Conan Doyle

Through the lonely mountain land There rode a cavalier. “Oh ride I to my darling's arms, Or to the grave so drear?”

The Echo answered clear, “The grave so drear.” So onward rode the cavalier And clouded was his brow.

“If now my hour be truly come, Ah well, it must be now!” The Echo answered low, “It must be now.”

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THE ECHO · Arthur Conan Doyle · Poetry Cove