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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 thus she sang as she plucked a rose, The leaves around her strewing: "I've time to lose and power to choose; 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos As 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; 'Tis 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 come a-suing! I've time to lose and power to choose; 'Tis 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 'Tis not so much the gallant who woos As the gallant's way of wooing!"

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