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You that would judge me, do not judge alone this book or that, come to this hallowed place where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon; Ireland'...more

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But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

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Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

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I think you can leave the arts, superior or inferior, to the conscience of mankind.

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Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

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Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams, Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.