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1779–1852

THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING.

Thomas Moore

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. Tho’ 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, O! 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.

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THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING. · Thomas Moore · Poetry Cove