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
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