Tall and calm, the lone man stands; Upon the grounds he raised his hands; He will not look, not back at me, But foreward, friend, to set him free.
Like I said, he's a lone man true, But sweet and gentle like morning hue; There was a time when he loved me still, Then years went by, they drank their fill,
Till all is gone from the life we knew, And all is lost on thoughts of you; I had hoped he would come come back to me, That hope is too far sprung and free.
He would come back, I remember now; But, oh! For what had I allowed? Poor, lonely man, Iunderstand him here; Yet its far too late for being near.
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