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Down the lights, a city known

Of romance high and glory gone

Those reveal the hid and hide the shown.

But now the clouds stuff and fill

The broken heights of Eiffel

That rose the pride and domed the will.

And by the shores of darkened eves

And the noon of fates the sun weaves

Cried a sound in hearing heaves.

A sound to depress and harass

yet to abash and embarrass

The current stillness of Paris.

And pale grows the face of Chirac

And so the nationals of bold Barack

For loss has come to erode a name

That donated earth a glorious fame.

Then fades the dream of Liberte

And trusted no more is Sarkozy

Of clues ancient and demode.

And mad goes yet insane

The flowing Seine, the silent rain

Till seas no more, no more main.

Then fall the labors of Rodin

Over the tunes of Chopin,

Combine the thought of Renan.

And now the thick, turning lean

Lands and meadows, deserts green

Of wail heard and doom unseen.

Then lull the noise, the roads quick

And so the times of scrambled tick

Scouring through the city sick.

But found nowhere, the Louver high

The artful residence of the sigh

Gowned in ruins by and by.

Though remains are the greatest

Of every modern and every latest,

The fleeting flaws, the so faintest.

Then Monks sprang to gather

every Saint and every Father

To witness a wound too profound

Spearing the halo of their bound.

But whose belief is a moonlight

To prevent an end of doom tight

Or flare a sun firm and bright.

And out of done and coming day

And of hopeless might and futile may

Lays a gloom which has yet to lay

To purr the sound of fore-dying way.

A way to depress and harass

Yet to abash and embarrass

The current stillness of Paris.