Well, here we go again. I’ll ease back in gently with this remembrance of things past; treasured lines gratefully received and oft reread.
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and 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 under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B.Yeats, 1899 (*…oh that Moon, memories bound to my soul with hoops of steel, MJL)