when you are old and grey 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 shawdows deep
How many loved your moments of glad grace.
And loved your beauty with love false or true.
But one man loved the pilrim soul in you
And loced 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 stard.