LOST LOVE

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!