On Helen’s heart the day were night!
But I may not adventure there:
Here breast is guarded by a right,
And she is true as fair.
And though in happy days her eyes
The glow within mine own could please,
She’s purer than the babe who cries
For empire on her knees.
Her love is for her lord and child,
And unto them belongs her snow;
But none can rob me of her wild
Young kiss of long ago!