Had I The heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enrought 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