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| starry starry night |
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 upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of
stars.
William B. Yeats
