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 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 pilgrin soul in you ,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face ;
And bending down besides the glowing bars ,
Murmur little sadly , how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead ,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars .