Is there no voice in the world to come crying,
— — " New dreams for old!
— — New for old! " ?
Many have long in my heart been lying,
— — Faded, weary, and cold.
All of them, all, would I give for a new one.
— — (Is there no seeker
— — Of dreams that were?)
Nor would I ask if the new were a true one:
— — Only for new dreams!
— — New for old!

For I am here, halfway of my journey,
— — Here with the old!
— — All so old!
And the best heart with death is at tourney,
— — If naught new it is told.
Will there no voice, then, come — or a vision —
— — Come with the beauty
— — That ever blows
Out of the lands that are called Elysian?
— — I must have new dreams!
— — New for old!