Had I the heavens'
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.
- William Butler Yeats