Montreal Standard, 1 July 1911, page 14
A Pleasant Farewell
He said “Good-night,” and he held her hand.
In a hesitating way.
And he hoped that her eyes would understand
What his lips refused to say.
He held her hand, and he murmured low:
“I’m sorry to go like this,
It seems so frigidly cold, you know,
This “mister” of ours, and “Miss”
“I thought perhaps—-“ and he passed the note
If she seemed inclined to frown;
But the light in her eyes his heart stirrings smote.
As she blushingly looked down.
She said no word, but she picked a speck
Of dust from his coat lapel.
Such a small- such a wee little, tiny fleck.
‘Twas a wonder she saw so well.
And it brought her face so very near,
In that dim, uncertain light.
That the thought, unspoken, was made quite clear.
And I knoe ‘twas a sweet goodnight.