Enormous swell of green!
Your trees, with their dark green crowns
clamber over one another to climb to your peak
as if the view offered something awful.
You seem otherworldy with the dusty maze
of concrete and asphalt that twists about your feet.
When the sky passes over your head do the clouds wet your sylvan hair?
Oh how we are cooly enchanted by that pine-sweetened wind
that passes over your brow.
Great green grandparent of Montreal,
you are young again every Spring!
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