The Sunday Night Poem - W. B. Yeats

[Editor's note: The narrator has been begging me for months to let him post some poetry on this site, using the argument that unless we promote the world's greatest poems, the collective I.Q. of this country is going to drop to the level of people who buy books by O. J. Simpson. Out of respect for his opinion and feelings I have decided to allow the C. O. to share a poem every Sunday night. Here is his first offering.]

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

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.

-William Butler Yeats, 1865-1939

All young people should memorize this and recite it to the object of their affection at a crucial point in the relationship. With lines so vivid and poignant - who wouldn't melt under such a sentiment? Unfortunately even if you belt out this poem like a lovesick fool there is no guarantee you won't get your heart ripped asunder and tossed into the nearest dumpster like a bag of rotten cabbage.

It still is a lovely verse, though. Makes a young lover want to think up some dreams - big dreams, dreams worthy of true beauty's love.