She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say read more

She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her they mean
No more than on the thing they lean.

And whispering, "I will ne'er consent," consented.

And whispering, "I will ne'er consent," consented.

'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.

'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
read more

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing;
Wed or cease to woo.

After the number of the days in which ye searched the land, even
forty days, each day for a read more

After the number of the days in which ye searched the land, even
forty days, each day for a year, shall ye bear your iniquities,
even forty years, and ye shall know my breach of promise.

Thrice happy's the wooing that's not long adoing.
So much time is saved in the billing and cooing.

Thrice happy's the wooing that's not long adoing.
So much time is saved in the billing and cooing.

Blessed is the wooing
That is not long a-doing.

Blessed is the wooing
That is not long a-doing.

There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four
which I know not:
The way read more

There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four
which I know not:
The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock;
the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man
with a maid.

Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast,
Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs.

Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast,
Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs.