Love's Fashion

Oh, I can jest with Margaret

And laugh a gay good-night,

But when I take my Helen's hand

I dare not clasp it tight.

I dare not hold her dear white hand

More than a quivering space,

And I should bless a breeze that blew

Her hair into my face.

‘ T is Margaret I call sweet names:

Helen is too, too dear

For me to stammer little words

Of 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!