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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Time I’ve Lost in Wooing

By Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

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 scorned 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 turned 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! the endeavor

From bonds so sweet to sever:

Poor Wisdom’s chance

Against a glance

Is now as weak as ever.