William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
When You Are Old
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 among a crowd of stars.
http://www.potw.org/archive/potw12.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Butler_Yeats
"I'm every age I've ever been, and some I've never ever seen... " ~ me
Two things:
Like the Brothers Grimm, Yeats was a walking collector of the stories and legends told in the Celtic oral tradition. Up and down the countrysides, like the Census - only with stories! What could be better?
Shakespeare's "Hamlet:" "And in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we shuffle off the mortal coil must give us pause. There's the respect that makes calamity of so long life."
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So you're telling me for the millionth time that "Ode to a Grecian Urn" is Keats, not Yeats. I think I've got it, finally.