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Song Of Montparnasse

City of soft skies and gentle shores,
Wide boulevards, steep twisted streets,
Slow flowing river framed
In bookstalls, love, and buttonwood.
The clang of bells, the squawking cabs,
The clatter of the cobblestones,
Join breaking day's bon-jours to be
Happy sounds,
Still crystal clear. But, those I knew are faded now,
Wraithlike, wrapped in withered years.

Yet, in whispers of the linden trees,
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