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.

诗人很美画也很美