Monday, January 28, 2008

WB 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.


Gail Streak said...

Darling, u okay. This is a beautiful poem.

Carmen Gabriel said...

I'm fine love!
I just came across this poem quite by chance and it reminded me of all the silly games we play with love when we are young and think we're invincible! We all think that love will come to us in a limitless supply because we're beautiful and have youth on our side... So we push people away, - always looking over our shoulders for something "better"... Reading this, i just realised how blessed and LUCKY I am to love and be loved right now...