Poem For The Weekend #34

It’s raining outside and the sky is cast grey like iron. A sweet, nostalgic poem for the weekend. Photo taken on a similarly gloomy day at Rattlesnake Lake in Washington last summer. xo


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.

– W.B. Yeats