When you are old   ( W.B. Yeats)

When you are old and gray and full of sleep

And nodding by the fire, , take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

How many loved your moments of glace,

And love your beauty with love false or true;

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

and loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the growing bars

Murnur, a little sadly, how love fled

And placed upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowed of stars.

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