He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens' embroided cloth,
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;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams
W.B. Yeats