HELENA TO HERMIA (FOR WINIFRED MORGAN-BROWN)

Throw up the cinders, let the night wear through And all the dear accustomed things be said Ere up the sleepy stair-case I and you Take our warm ways to bed. Then let us loose our hands’ reluctant hold Lest the uneasy dawn behind dim groves Stir the still leaves and any hint of cold Blow on our loves.