When you get old

William Butler Yeats

When you are old, and grey and full of sleep

And ndding by the fire, take down this book
And slowly read, dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep

How many loved your moments of glad grace
And loved 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 glowing bars
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars