The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 14, Issue 3 (June 1, 1939)
What shall I wear if the day be fine
The sprigged and all-be-flowered frock?
Or just a muslin, so still and cool,
As I stand trembling at Robin's knock.
What shall I say when he takes my hand
And looks at me with his easy smile?
“Good morning, sir. How are you, sir?
Mother will come in a little while.”
What shall I say if he whispers, “Will you?”
Oh, heart stop trembling at such a thought.
I may not love him, I may say “No.”
And all your flutters will be for nought.
What shall I do if he goes away
And his eyes still speak, tho’ his tongue be dumb.
Oh, I shall die; for I love him dearly,
Heaven be praised, for to-day he will come.