Had I the heaven's 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.

 W. B. Yeats