Only This and Nothing More

Just this odd old poem that I loved when I was a kid. Something about it always seemed so mysterious and romantic even then.

Yes, it is Yeats again, just wait till I start on Tennyson and then everyone will be drowning in saccharine and sighs.

He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

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.


By William Butler Yeats

P.S I know, I know, I posted up a Yeats poem with an Edgar Allen Poe line as the blogpost title. Somehow I feel like there should be a rule against it...the two are SO different.