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 lookYour 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．
When You Are Old
