sexta-feira, 29 de abril de 2011

W. B. Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroided 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 you feet;
tread softly because you tread on my dreams.