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.

- By William Butler Yeates

When considering great works of poetry, many people picture complicated prose, epic poems and the good old Shakespearean experience.  However, often times, it is the simplest phrase that can bring about the most emotional responses.

My family came to America in October 1991 from Belarus (Former Soviet Republic).  The important element to grasp is that even though minorities cry descrimination and religious groups cry persecution and Americans curse the immigrants, all of these people had more than we did.  My parents had no money, no jobs, and no language.  Despite having little money and little English, my family fought against the hard times and managed to earn their place in American Society. 

Despite their success, my parents always say that my sister and I are their reason for coming to this country, their reason for fighting against the current, and that we were and are their life.  My parent’s could not afford to give us riches.  If they had “the heavens’ embroidered cloths”, they would have draped it on our shoulders and under our feet.  But all my parents truly had was their dreams.  Dreams that my sister and I will go further in life than they did, that we will be instilled with values and morals that my parents infused within us, and that we would always be close to our family.  Those are the dreams on which i tread and i tread ever so softly.