When you are Old: W.B Yeats

When You Are Old

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.

W.B.Yeats, poet and playwrite, was born in Dublin Ireland on 13th June 1865, but moved to Chiswick London in 1867 due to his fathers career as a lawyer and did not return to Ireland until 1881, where he studied at the Metropolitan School of Art, it was here that he met fellow poet George Russell who shared his interest in mysticism.

This is a poet, I just recently found on http://allpoetry.com/When-You-Are-Old. An old Irish poet, for some reason to this day, I believe that my favorite form of poetry, is verse phrase Irish poetry. 

Let's break it all down,

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

These three verses, say so much, yet leave a tangle of mystic value that is supported effortlessly. 

Hey, Pilgrim, put it here. :)