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.
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Whoe’er she be,
That not impossible She
That shall command my heart and me:Where’er she lie,
Locked up from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny:Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps tread our earth;Till that divine
Idea take a shrine
Of crystal flesh, through...