Shifter

Put me in the old place,
Take me from the new.
Tis a brilling and a pithy lore
of old and new and yen.
Tis of the Maddning crowd, good sir,
With hats and cups and ken.
The cobbled river, bird o grace
is standing in the sky.
And who would ever think, my friend,
A lowly mirror flies.
The dappled street all right to left,
the ice in summer time,
the heartache, headache, toothache too -
All serve their own rhyme.
To see the cat, all stuffed and fat,
is standing on the sea -
A pit of endless, depthless shock -
The cheetah is now free.
Not a paragraph, not now
reflected in the shine.
Catch the mem'ry, save it now -
Look at me - tis thine.