My favorite poem

When You are Old
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

I'm in a little romantic frame of mind this morning. I just thought that I would share this with you. It is my absolute favorite poem ever. I think that there is something so profound in marrying the right words together. 'Moments of glad grace' and 'pilgrim soul' just strike something within me. Together, the whole thing is achingly beautiful. I think I'll let it speak for itself.

Love to you all out there, Muffinhound