There are no fences facing 

These skipping wheels of rhyme

So play a tune that's tracing

These slippery eels of time.

 

Now the fleeting senseless shipwreck,

Of all of life's esteems,

Flashes quick before your eyes:

With the true-falsity of dreams.

 

Cling you to the wreckage,

Or let it sink and go,

The starlight shines

Above us:

And the north winds blow

 

To Xanadu, where, long ago,

Amidst yon fields of gold,

 Kubla Khan grew young at heart,

As his body now grows old.

 

Shadows of his dome of pleasure 

Float here before my eyes,

Not in your cowardly-wisdon

Washed

By the many fountains of disguise.