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 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.
Bending down beside the glowing bars, murmur,
a little sadly how love fled and paced upon
the mountains overhead and his his face
amid... 'a crowd of stars'.
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