When you are old and gray and full of sleepAnd nodding by the fire,take down this bookAnd slowly read,and dream of the soft lookYour eyes had once,and of their shadows deepHow many loved your moments of glad graceAnd loved your handsome with love false or trueBut one woman loved the pilgrim soul in you And loved the sorrows of your changing faceAnd bending down beside the glowing barsMurmur,a little sadly,how love fledAnd paced upon the mountains overheadAnd hid his face amid a crowd of stars

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