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 deepHow many loved your moments of glad grace

And loved your beauty with love false or trueBut 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 amid a crowd of stars