A poem by Thomas Moore, 1779-1852

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To Music at night
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away o'er lawns and lakes
Goes answering light!

Yet Love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet
Then e'er, beneath the moonlight's star,
Of horn or lute or soft guitar
The songs repeat.

'Tis only when the sigh, -- in youth sincere
And only then,
The sigh that's breathed for one to hear --
Is by that one, that only Dear
Breathed back again.