It rains on my soul,
Deep and violent sadness.
Hiding me in a hole,
Looking for happiness.

A part of me is near,
So far away from my heart,
Only dancing with fear
And feeding me with art.

I would take care of your dreams
And burn the dark cloth of life.
I want to hold you in my arms,
And, forever, live in your light.

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with the golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams...

William Butler Yeats