When You Are Old
W.B. Yeats
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 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 the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
I did that mostly from memory - had to look up the punctuation and one line....There was a time when I decided to start memorizing poetry, and I got quite a few down before I became lax and gave it up. Now this one is the principal one that remains in my head (as well as lines and fragments from Love Calls Us to the Things of This World, and from Prufrock). It was nice while it lasted, though....Think I'll try again.
I love this poem, too.....Eh, there are sooo many pomes to love. Have been enjoying reading others' choices, too - interesting to see what different people choose.
Whit, I WONDERED why you had some white dots in amongst your purple pome! I am too lazy to go back and fix "Love...." tonight - maybe another time. It IS crazy-making - as you said, the poet created the lines a certain way and we should respect that. The line breaks and indents do add a lot to the way a poem reads.
