Some are soon bagg'd but some reject three dozen.
'Tis fine to see them scattering refusals
And wild dismay, o'er every angry cousin
(Friends of the party) who begin accusals,
Such as--"Unless Miss (Blank) meant to have chosen
Poor Frederick, why did she accord perusals
To his billets? Why waltz with him? Why, I pray,
Look yes least night, and yet say No to-day?"
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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.
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.
"Yes," I answered you last night;
"No," this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
read more
"Yes," I answered you last night;
"No," this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.
'Tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart be sure is not of ice,
read more
'Tis enough--
Who listens once will listen twice;
Her heart be sure is not of ice,
And one refusal no rebuff.
Woo the fair one when around
Early birds are singing;
When o'er all the fragrant ground
read more
Woo the fair one when around
Early birds are singing;
When o'er all the fragrant ground
Early herbs are springing:
When the brookside, bank, and grove
All with blossom laden,
Shine with beauty, breathe of love,
Woo the timid maiden.
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.
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.
Why don't the men propose, mamma?
Why don't the men propose?
Why don't the men propose, mamma?
Why don't the men propose?
There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.
There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.
