When you are old and gray and full of sleep
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And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
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And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
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Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
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How many loved your moments of glad grace,
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And loved your beauty with love false or true;
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But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
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And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
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And bending down beside the glowing bars,
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Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
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And paced upon the mountains overhead,
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And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
~William Butler Yeats~
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I’ve always loved this poem–especially that phrase, “one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.” Who doesn’t want to be loved for their “pilgrim soul?”
Exactly!
Also my favourite phrase.