W B Yeats - He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

I'm not too well-read on the poetry front, but a friend introduced me to this. It always moves me.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with gold 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.