Yester-Place
Back around Time's corner, no comfort
To concede looking in
On which buoyed plane, laughed up and down is
Past a street's re-mounting.
Nothing there but provokes of a more
Absurdness in a sigh
In what, weary intoned, out-whimpers all
On graveyard winds that die!
Yester-place shimmers. Only what gives
Its gold's foil-light suggests
To the Earth proper have not plunged these
Thunder-moods; lightning-zests.
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