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1 2 5 R R U E C A M B O N M I C H A E L M I L L E R He remembered her arm extending only to the elbow, As smooth as the round handle Of his grandfather’s ivory cane. And he loved her from the stump inward: How she sauntered under the chestnut blossoms When he first saw her; How her lips filled the room on the rue Cambon. She brought goodness into his life To carry with him through the years. ...

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