Yeats

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. The lyric poetry of Yeats calls out to our own hearts just as the peace and calm of Innisfree beckoned him; he writes of youth and love, and of Ireland with its beauty and its noble past. Here, perfectly expressed, are the innermost thoughts, dreams and fears of the greatest Irish poet of all time.