When You Are Getting Old
When you are getting old grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, picking up this book,
And slowly reading, dreaming of the soft look
Your eyes had once, of their shadows deep;
Many of loved moments are full of grace,
And beauty with love false or true,
But only one man loved the soul in you
And loved the sorrows of a changing face;
Bending down beside the glowing bars,
A murmur, little sadly, how love fled,
And raced upon the mountains ahead,
Hid a face amid a crowd of stars.
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