To-night, with the fairest girl I dance,
Rumor has coupled our names, they say,
Eyes down-drooping beneath my glance;
If I speak will she answer “Nay”?
Now in the waltz we smoothly whirl;
Never was step than hers more light,
Why should the thought of another girl
Come from a dance of the past to-night?

A harvest home of my boyhood’s day,
Little like this yet the fiddle’s strain
Was witching – Old Amby knew how to play,
To thrill with passion or stab with pain,
I danced with the belle; her eyes dropped down –
Rumor had coupled our names, you see, –
Shy and sweet in her muslin gown;
Fair and true as a girl need be.

Not a little like this one here –
Hair very much the same bright hue –
Not so tall – pink of cheek as clear –
Eyes, perchance, of a darker blue.
How we danced, with youth’s own zest,
Till the stars paled in the eastern sky,
And we two, with our love confessed,
Walked home together, she and I.

Pardon, fair partner, of waltz and whirl,
My errant dreams of a love untrue,
Was it treason to think of that other girl
When my thoughts should only have been of you?
Come, I promise to dream no more,
Look not up with reproachful glance,
Lightly drift we across the floor.
I am yours, to-night at the dance.

By Lucy Maud Montgomery

Source: The Poetry of Lucy Maud Montgomery