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.
A beleza de envelhecer como um carvalho.
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