Had
I the heaven’s embroidered cloths,
Inwrought
with golden and silver light,
The
blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of
night and the light and the half light,
I
would spread the cloths under your feet;
But
being poor have only my dreams;
I
have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread
softly because you tread on my dreams.
- Yeats
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