When you are old and gray and full of sleep,Ahd nodding by the fire ,take down this book ,And slowly read,and dream of the soft lookYour 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 loves the pilgrim soul in youAnd loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,Murmur,a little sadly ,how Love fledAnd paced upon the mountains overheadAnd hid his face among a crowd of stars.