Poor Cyrano! How very like a man
To blame his loneliness upon his nose.
Too shy and proud to ever dare disclose
The torments of his soul to fair Roxanne.
And she was fair, indeed--this all began
For him, somewhere between her hair and toes.
Perhaps I'm cynical. Do you suppose
Had SHE inherited the family beak
Albeit with a soul of perfect grace,
And wit, and charm, Rbut lacking in the face
That certain 'je ne sais quoi'--that certain 'chic,'
Would he have suffered still, by love besot?
DeBergerac? Most absolutely not!
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