Sonnet. "Thou restless voice! that wandering up and down"

Thou restless voice! that wandering up and down
  These forest paths, where for this many a day,
  I come to dream the summer hours away—
  Mak'st answer to my voice with mocking tone,
  Echo! thou air-born child of harmony,
  How oft in sunny field, or shadowy wood,
  By lone hill-side, or cavern-cradled flood,
  Have I held laughing converse, nymph, with thee.
  This is thy dwelling, and along the wide
  Oak-woven halls, that stretch on every side,
  Murmuring sweet lullabies, I hear thee stray,
  Hushing the dim-eyed Twilight, who all day,
  From searching sunbeams hid in these cool bowers,
  Sleeps on a bed of pale, night-blowing flowers.