218 THE REASON WHY.
THE REASON WHY.
(In answer to the song, "Won t you tell me why, Robin?")
YOU bid me tell you why, Jenny, I come no longer near; You think my heart is cold, Jenny,
Biding in silence here; You think I never try the gate Nor give you blossoms gay ; I cannot tell you why, Jenny, But sighing turn away.
You do not know that late at night
I kiss the little gate, Because your hand has rested there
Its warm and willing weight ; You know not how I treasure up
The hawthorn spray all torn, Or that upon my breast there lies
A blue knot you have worn.
Well, by and by perchance I ll tell,
And maybe not for ever ; If brother Allan wins you, dear,
I ll tell the reason never. I promised one, an angel now,
To have him in my keeping To guard his golden head from harm,
His heart from care and weeping.