Song Of Montparnasse

Poem By Thurston Munson

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,
Each, when called, comes forth to tell
Of wondrous days, that even then
Were one without tomorrows. Where each cafe guards faithfully,
Its treasury of memories,
And sings its own sweet requiem
For laughter, lights,
For velvet nights,
For worlds we were to build,
For joy that knew no reason,
Save, I was young,
And it was Paris.

Comments about Song Of Montparnasse

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of THURSTON MUNSON

To A Ballerina

A slender willow touched by wind,
Whispers of your grace.
The singing brook and sunlight spin
Their web of dappled lace


The zephyrs sailed their silken ships
Across the star-strewn skies to meet
Selene who cleaved the silvered sea
To softly set its diamonds at your feet. Naked Aphrodite rising from their gleam,