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!