|
When you are old
0 {& _3 B6 @1 p) Z: Y9 w; g: u1 I* z0 s! z6 a1 b
--- William Butler Yeats- A3 }$ r, i0 K
# X# n/ G- P( k/ P9 q2 y+ E* I4 C
When you are old and grey and full of sleep, 6 v# J) \; k, W. o( h7 P
1 k" g' _0 l; l# [
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
' ?0 g9 K( R( Z( H% c7 L1 \' ]0 ^
! {) S; y6 @4 Y( a' k And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
* W* X4 ^, a) a1 |6 @8 c/ V q- l, P; s: X7 O
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
- ?) _/ N% N6 F+ V$ I/ u; L
! T& }( h, i8 {# j7 } How many loved your moments of glad grace, , t( r* w( `6 y5 V& o" Q [: Y7 {
5 H4 x1 R. ] B- y& |/ q: d9 n$ W( H
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
- _9 i* C E! M0 M# b2 _% [- \9 I9 G R% W: g: |2 [
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, ! h$ x8 M* `) P9 s! l
+ O5 F1 Y. j: \* j5 G And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
* r- V; c6 |" Q, o
' N$ E4 J6 e) d8 G) A g" ?, D And bending down beside the glowing bars,
* y7 q5 k0 o+ P$ E% |+ z+ T0 Z1 x
1 ?5 R: d0 O: n Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
# D% n0 {" b8 L' C7 I6 Z7 F) Q8 j* I
And paced upon the mountains overhead
4 i' [& _* {' Z
' V: M8 D1 h) w) l, Z And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. |
|