Echoes Poem by George Lewis Walker

Echoes



My father's hammer, when it strikes,
Wakes up the hills and plains;
A thousand times the hills cry out
As if they feel the pains. Every time that hammer strikes,
The hills wake up and cry;
And valleys deep, O how they weep
Until the echoes die.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
1 / 5
George Lewis Walker

George Lewis Walker

Belton, South Carolina, USA
Close
Error Success