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 smileSome 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 eyeAnd 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, placedOn a pillion safe behind him.And she heard the suitor bold confideThis golden hint to the priest who tiedThe knot there’s no undoing;“With pretty young maidens who can choose,’Tis not so much the gallant who woos,As the gallant’s way of wooing!”