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 jasmineleaves 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 highflown compliment,And cold demeanour stately,"You've still,"said she to her suitor stern,"The 'prenticework of your craft to learn,If thus you come acooing.
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 asuing!
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!"
