
Lost Love Andrew Downes
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I play my sweet old airs -
The airs he knew
When our love was true -
But he does not balk
His determined walk
And passes up the stairs
I sing my songs once more
And presently hear
His footstep near
As if it would stay;
But he goes his way
And shuts a distant door
So I wait for another morn
And another night
In this soul-sick blight;
And I wonder much
As I sit, why such
A woman as I was born!
The airs he knew
When our love was true -
But he does not balk
His determined walk
And passes up the stairs
I sing my songs once more
And presently hear
His footstep near
As if it would stay;
But he goes his way
And shuts a distant door
So I wait for another morn
And another night
In this soul-sick blight;
And I wonder much
As I sit, why such
A woman as I was born!
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