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!"