Mary Posted January 27, 2007 Report Share Posted January 27, 2007 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 his his face amid a crowd of stars. W. B. Yeats (1865-1939) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jerry Posted February 8, 2007 Report Share Posted February 8, 2007 Mary, it took me two readings to grasp the poetry in that Yeats. I wonder if he knew he would die before his love object, or if he was speaking universally for all men and women who have loved or been loved. I find fireplaces and books extremely romantic and evidently so did Yeats. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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