The Look Of Love

de Dorothy Ashby

There was the Door to which I found no Key
There was the Veil through which I could not see
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee
There was -- and then no more of Thee and Me

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend
Before we too into the Dust descend
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and, sans Goodbye!

Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and, sans Goodbye!

Sans Goodbye, sans Goodbye!

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