Love’s Fashion
Oh, I can jest with MargaretAnd laugh a gay good-night,But when I take my Helen’s handI dare not clasp it tight.
I dare not hold her dear white handMore than a quivering space,And I should bless a breeze that blewHer hair into my face.
‘T is Margaret I call sweet names:Helen is too, too dearFor me to stammer little wordsOf love into her ear.
So now, good-night, fair Margaret,And kiss me e’er we part!But one dumb touch of Helen’s hand,And, oh, my heart, my heart!