My father's hammer, when it strikes, <br /> Wakes up the hills and plains; <br /> A thousand times the hills cry out <br /> As if they feel the pains. Every time that hammer strikes, <br /> The hills wake up and cry; <br /> And valleys deep, O how they weep <br /> Until the echoes die.<br /><br />George Lewis Walker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/echoes-10/
