When You Are Old

I'm trying to get back to normal posting (finally), but I might still throw in an occasional poem since I didn't end up posting many during April. Here's another favorite--Amanda introduced me to this poem, and I will forever be glad for it.

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.

–William Butler Yeats