when you are old and gray
　　And full of sleep,
　　And nording 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 love your momens of
　　Glad grace
　　And love your beauty with love false or true
　　But one man love the pilgrimsoul in you
　　And love the sorrows of your changing face
　　And bending down beside the glowing bars
　　Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled
　　And paced on the mountains over head
　　And hid his face amid a crowed of stars
　　 ____ Yeats