French
In the orchestra of languages
Nobody would dispute
That French, with honeyed cadence,
Would be likened to the flute.
I pass a French school every day
And hear the conversation –
So smooth and silky that from English
It’s like a vacation.
The melting pot that is New York
Enables me to hear
A wealth of tongues all chattering
Into the atmosphere.
But only French has silvery tones
Like flutes when they are playing
And I enjoy the sounds although
I know not what they’re saying!
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