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.