How often in the summer-tide,
His graver business set aside,
His stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed
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How often in the summer-tide,
His graver business set aside,
His stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed
As to the pipe of Pan,
Stepped blithesomely with lover's pride
Across the fields to Anne.

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.

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

And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan
A lady fair.
Wha does the utmost that he read more

And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan
A lady fair.
Wha does the utmost that he can
Will whyles do mair.

Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
On blithe Yuletide when we were read more

Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
On blithe Yuletide when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Maggie coost her head fu' high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh:
Ha, ha! the wooing o't!

Alas! to seize the moment
When the heart inclines to heart,
And press a suit with passion,
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Alas! to seize the moment
When the heart inclines to heart,
And press a suit with passion,
Is not a woman's part.
If man come not to gather
The roses where they stand,
They fade among their foliage,
They cannot seek his hand.

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.

'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.

'Tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart be sure is not of ice,
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'Tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart be sure is not of ice,
And one refusal no rebuff.