When you are old 　　 　　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.