1. Yesteryear



Down a dim corridor

Through which little light filters

And much dust settles

Like some deserted country mansion

Revealing through the gloom

Ghost of past glory;

I see you dancing.


And the gloom lends glory;

All the old magnificence of yesteryear

Rushes up toward me,

The violins are playing,

The ballroom filled with light

And I am dancing with you.


Out of the corner of my eye

I see the paper hanging from the walls,

The delicate lace curtains

The web of the spider;

And the murals

Such joyous scenes of dancing

Are naught but the blotchy green of damp.


In the dust of our dancing

The gloom returns

And there you are, at the end of a dim corridor,

Through which little light filters,

Ghost of a past glory

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