W.B. Yeats

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Hoewel ik dacht dit gedicht al eens te hebben gepost, blijkt nu dat ik slechts een fragment heb geplaatst. Daarom het gedicht ‘When you are old’ van William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939), gewoon omdat het zo’n prachtig gedicht is.

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When you are old
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When you are old and greyand 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;

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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;

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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.

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