Saturday, October 14. 2006
When You are Old 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 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. |
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