Had I the Heavens' embroidered cloths,

en wrought 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,

thread softly because you tread on my dreams.

-W.B.Yeats