He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue, and the dim, and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet.

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

W.B. Yeats

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