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!