William Butler Yeats
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When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
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And nodding by the fireåQŒtake down this book,
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And slowly read,and dream of the soft look
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Your eyes had once,and of their shadows deep;
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How many loved your moments of glad grace,
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And loved your beauty with love false or true,
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But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you
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And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
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And bending down beside the glowing bars,
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Murmur,a little sadly,how Love fled
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And paced upon the mountains overhead
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And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
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