Lost Love Andrew Downes

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!