The time I've lost in wooing - Thomas Moore

An
        Englishman at the Moulin Rouge - Lautrec

The time I've lost in wooing,
In watching and pursuing
The light, that lies
In woman's eyes,
Has been my heart's undoing.
Though Wisdom oft has sought me,
I scorn'd the lore she brought me,
My only books
Were woman's looks,
And folly's all they've taught me.

Her smile when Beauty granted,  
I hung with gaze enchanted,
Like him, the sprite,  
Whom maids by night
Oft meet in glen that's haunted.
Like him, too, Beauty won me,
But while her eyes were on me,
If once their ray 
Was turn'd away,
Oh! winds could not outrun me.

 

  And are those follies going? 
And is my proud heart growing
Too cold or wise 
For brilliant eyes
Again to set it glowing?
No, vain, alas! th' endeavour
From bonds so sweet so sever;
Poor Wisdom's chance 
Against a glance
Is now as weak as ever.
 


Chique

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