It’s a raining  in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and I’m looking through a book of poems, and here’s a poem by William Butler Yeats,  and it’s just the poem for tonight, and it’s addressed to you (and you know who I mean):

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.

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One thought on “Soft looks and pilgrim souls….

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