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Poems and Translations

by W. J. Linton

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27

WHY.

He pull'd the branch of hazel down,
And kiss'd me ere he let it go.
'Twas very sweet: I did not frown:
Why did my lover tremble so?
Why was he silent as we went
Hand fast in hand, the dim wood through?
I knew he loved me, knew he meant
Love's question. I was silent too.
I've not had time to ask him yet.
'Twas but a moment that my heart
Beat against his, just now: we met
At mother's gate, to kiss, and part.