Friday Poem: The Cloths of Heaven

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.

by W. B. Yeats

2 thoughts on “Friday Poem: The Cloths of Heaven

  1. Quite seriously but very oddly, our elder cat has always responded to the name, William Butler Yeats, and likes to sit on my wife’s lap as she writes her poetry, reading her computer screen. (Yes, his head moves from side to side as he looks at the screen.) As a kitten, she mentioned the poet one day to me and he jumped into her arms. She repeated the name twice with the same result each time. Go figure.

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