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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXECUTIVE by DAVID IGNATOW A COURT LADY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. THE GASTRIC MUSE by JOHN ARMSTRONG COMPANIONSHIP by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD |