The Way of Wooing

A maiden sat at her window wide,

Pretty enough for a Prince's bride,

Yet nobody came to claim her.

She sat like a beautiful picture there,

With pretty bluebells and roses fair,

And jasmine-leaves to frame her.

And why she sat there nobody knows;

But this she sang as she plucked a rose,

The leaves around her strewing:

"I've time to lose and power to choose;

'T is not so much the gallant who woos,

But the gallant's WAY of wooing!"

A lover came riding by awhile,

A wealthy lover was he, whose smile

Some maids would value greatly -

A formal lover, who bowed and bent,

With many a high-flown compliment,

And cold demeanour stately,

"You've still," said she to her suitor stern,

"The 'prentice-work of your craft to learn,

If thus you come a-cooing.

I've time to lose and power to choose;

'T is not so much the gallant who woos,

As the gallant's WAY of wooing!"

A second lover came ambling by -

A timid lad with a frightened eye

And a colour mantling highly.

He muttered the errand on which he'd come,

Then only chuckled and bit his thumb,

And simpered, simpered shyly.

"No," said the maiden, "go your way;

You dare but think what a man would say,

Yet dare to come a-suing!

I've time to lose and power to choose;

'T is not so much the gallant who woos,

As the gallant's WAY of wooing!"

A third rode up at a startling pace -

A suitor poor, with a homely face -

No doubts appeared to bind him.

He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist,

And off he rode with the maiden, placed

On a pillion safe behind him.

And she heard the suitor bold confide

This golden hint to the priest who tied

The knot there's no undoing;

With pretty young maidens who can choose,

'T is not so much the gallant who woos,

As the gallant's WAY of wooing!"