I love Madame; I saw her once
With hair down in the breeze,
And all her stars and bells, they waved
And tinkled merrily.

I saw her once again, quite soon
And found her in a daze.
She saw the air, its shaking quake
And told the story well.

I saw her once again, once more,
And knew it was a dream,
For things that leave us softly ill
Are not reality.

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