Where the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,Through echoing forest and echoing street,With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,All men are our kindred, the world is our home.Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,The laughter and beauty of women long dead;The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,And happy and simple and sorrowful things.What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow?Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go.No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait:The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.
— Sarojini Naidu

I have loved badly, loved the greatToo soon, withdrawn my words too late;And eaten in an echoing hallAlone and from a chipped plateThe words that I withdrew too late.
Edna St. Vincent Millay echoing quote

Nothing is so beautiful as spring -- when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
— Gerard Manley Hopkins

Highest of heights, I climb this mountain and feel one with the rock and grit and solitude echoing back at me.
— Bradley Chicho

Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
— echoing quotation by Gerard Manley Hopkins