Ooooohhhh, goodie, this is my kind of challenge
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: Born Dublin, 13th June 1865
Died, Roquebrune (France) 28th January 1939
Originally buried in Menton, France but was moved to Sligo in 1948. His epitaph is a quote from the poem "Under Bulben Ben" It reads -
Cast a cold eye on life,
On death, horsemen pass by
Oh, yes.... and he was a feckin genius!!!
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OOOOH too late and i agree.....BRILLIANT< GENIUS !
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