published in "The Rose" 1893
William Butler Yeats |
Jun 1865 – Jan 1939 |Irish
When you are old and grey 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 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 bedding 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.
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