And paced upon the mountains overhead
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
When You Are Old
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
