When you are Old
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 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.
by William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939)
Youth and Beauty
Thou art so fair, and yong withall,
Thou kindl'st yong desires in me,
Restoreing life to leaves that fall,
And sight to Eyes that hardly see
Halfe those fresh Beauties bloom in thee.
Those, under sev'rall Hearbs and Flowr's
Disguis'd, were all Medea gave,
When she recall'd Times flying howrs,
And aged Ęson from his grave,
For Beauty can both kill and save.
Youth it enflames, but age it cheers,
I would go back, but not return
To twenty but to twice those yeers;
Not blaze, but ever constant burn,
For fear my Cradle prove my Urn.
by Aurelian Townshend (1583 - 1651)
