When You Are Old

WHEN YOU ARE OLD
By 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 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.