From The Birmingham Age-Herald, April 4, 1913. By 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. Though wisdom oft has sought me I scorn’d 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 met 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 Oh! 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.