|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,||5|
|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||10|
|And paced upon the mountains overhead,|
|And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.|
Friday, May 29, 2009
When You Are Old.
this poem is about love... maybe love that wasn't received. a love that Yeats thought was richer than the love she did receive, and forever held that against her. I'm not sure. But the ache of time and loss resound from it, and therefore, Jed loves it.