David chopped a tall cedar and his blows echoed and reechoed in the white spaces.
"Mistress Anne" by Temple Bailey
But his screams only reechoed from the silent river banks.
"Ted and the Telephone" by Sara Ware Bassett
As the morning wore on, the sound of guns, reechoed from the Blue Ridge mountains on our left, became loud and constant.
"Destruction and Reconstruction:" by Richard Taylor
Poets are sweetest when they reecho its whisperings; orators are most potent when they thrill its chords to music.
"America First" by Various
The French soon came up and surrounded the fort, and the bark of the rifles reechoed through the woods and from the hills.
"A Treasury of Heroes and Heroines" by Clayton Edwards
Mr. Dingley gave the bell handle a vigorous pull, but not the faintest tinkle reechoed through the interior.
"The Other Side of the Door" by Lucia Chamberlain
It was a load that would echo and reecho in the hills.
"Frank of Freedom Hill" by Samuel A. Derieux
It is all of sounding brass; it is all resounding, and it reechoes the voice, and repeats what it hears.
"The Metamorphoses of Ovid" by Publius Ovidius Naso
A low cry of wonder broke from his lips, and was reechoed in chorus from all the burdened rafts.
"In the Morning of Time" by Charles G. D. Roberts
He had barely reached it when, muffled and many times reechoed among the tree trunks, he heard two shots.
"Astounding Stories of Super-Science July 1930" by Various
Stranger, that massy, mouldering pile,
Whose ivied ruins load the ground,
Reechoed once to pious strains
By holy sisters breathed around.
"Julia, or the Convent of St. Claire" by Amelia Opie
``But few are they that hear,
And fewer still that feel,
The meaning of my song,
Until the note be clear,
Re—echoed be the peal,
Early, and late, and long.
"A November Note" by Alfred Austin
Remember the nights when the tar-barrel blazed!
From red "Massachusetts" the war-cry was raised;
And "Hollis" and "Stoughton" reechoed the call;
Till P----- poked his head out of Holworthy Hall!
"Once More" by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Was it then thou didst call them to banish all pain,
And the harpstring, just breaking, reecho again
To a strain of enchantment that flowed as the wave,
Where they waited to welcome the murmur it gave?
"Lines" by Mary Baker Eddy