The Time I 've lost in wooing.

My only books

Were woman's looks,—

And folly 's all they 've taught me.

The Time I 've lost in wooing.

I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart,

I but know that I love thee whatever thou art.

Come, rest in this Bosom.

To live and die in scenes like this,

With some we 've left behind us.