sent by my friend alex:
He Wishes For The Cloths of Heaven
by W.B. Yeats
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.
i miss those times when i thought i knew poetry.
1 comment:
damn, i should've known a phrase as pretty as that must've come from somewhere poetic.
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