When You Are Old

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 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.

by William Butler Yeats

Comments (4)

Jessica, the final lines are the poem - if you can find a way to express the preamble in less words than the last two lines you'll have written what is the essense of a truely great poem. Rgds, Ivan
i agree with your title. great story. its really sad though. good job. keep it up. sista. lol. lylas.
Is it the myte or the man thats loved, is loved lost ever real again, I like to hope so. Intrestings questions. Thanks for sharing.
Very good, but it is confusing because of how you um... formatted it.