SHEPHERD _loquitur_.--An' a wee bit name--canna it carry a weight o'
love?--_Noctes Ambrosianæ_, No. lxxii.
A wee bit name! O wae's the heart
When nought but _that_ is left,
But doubly dear it comes to be
When time a' else hath reft,
An' youth, an' hope, an' innocence,
An' happiness, an' hame,
Are a' concentred in a word,
That word--a wee bit name.
Back through the weary waste o' years
My memory is borne,
An' gurglin' streams, an' thickets green,
An' fields o' yellow corn:
An' lanely glens, an' sunny hills
Upon my spirit gleam,
The phantoms o' the past before
That spell--a wee bit name.
O vision sweet! a fair, fair face,
A young, but thochtfu' brow,
Twa gentle een o' azure sheen,
Are beamin' on me noo.
Be still, my beatin' heart--be still;
It's but an idle dream:
She heeds na though wi' tremblin' joy
I breathe a wee bit name.
A wee bit name! O lives there ane
That never, never felt
Its pathos an' its wizard power
To saften and to melt?
No--callous though the bosom be
Wi' years o' sin an' shame,
'Twill melt like snaw in summer's sun
Before some wee bit name.
A wee bit name! the rod whose touch
Bids hidden waters start,
The torch that lichts the pile upon
The altar o' the heart,
An' kindles what wad else decay,
Into a holy flame:
A sacred influence may lie
Within a wee bit name!