Her Name.
[Music by Mr. James Ferguson, Edinburgh.—Here first printed.]
Her name! oh, her name would'st thou have me to tell?
Ah no! from this bosom thou reav'st not the spell
Which cheers it at ev'ning and glads it at morn,
Howe'er by life's cares 'tis distracted and torn.
A name which is sunlight and moonlight to me,
I'll breathe 't to the night winds but not unto thee.
That name I shall teach the sweet streamlets to cry,
And list till I hear the glad echoes reply;
And, oft as it rises, the soft scented breeze
Shall waft it away through the tall forest trees;
Till linnets and thrushes, inspir'd by the theme,
Shall sing like the fays only heard when we dream.
What joyous delight, in the calm ev'ning shade,
To hear the lov'd name warbled thus through the glade;
'Twill steal o'er my brain like the warm summer air,
When loaded with perfume of eglantines fair;
I'll dream until even the starlets proclaim
The dear words; but ah, I'll not tall thee her name!