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Thom Moore: Music

Love On Her Own

(Thom Moore)
Window there, and here's a chair:
Love is on her own.
In a sleepless night, with no delight:
there's someone far away,
who comes and goes—but don't suppose
he can stand another day
with that window there, and then the chair,
and Love on her own.

The man out there sighs foreign air;
Love breathes her own.
Oh, restless, restless, restless night!
What strange and bending road
led him here to fill her ears
with his broken-hearted load?
She heard him swear that he can't bear
Love on her own.

He made a prayer and sang his airs
for Love on her own;
so, testing him—may the best man win!
she gave and she took away:
gave him books, gave him looks
that could freeze a summer day.
Little man, take care, when you make your prayer
Love on her own.

Chin in air and hand in hair,
Love is on her own.
Does she want to leave, and not to grieve
a home and another time?
Oh, listen, heart: no love, no art
can wipe away the signs
that life's not fair, and up the stairs,
Love is on her own.

Window there, and then the chair:
Love is on her own,
past a sleepless night, with no delight:
there's someone far away,
who calls and rings, and sends her things
to ready for the day
when he'll be there and in that chair with
Love, on their own.
He calls, he rings, he sends her things
to ready for the day
when he'll be there, and in that chair,
with Love, on their own.