I've always loved Yeats and a friend reminded me the other day of what he said about getting old. I guess when you are young you don't want to be reminded but old age will creep in whether you like it or not. I don't consider myself old but I'm not young either. I'm just pleasantly comfortable in my skin and wrinkles or white hair does not bother me. These two poems however are lovely and makes you wonder what the poet was thinking about as he grew older. I also like his other poems, especially his Prayers for my daughter.
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.Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread upon my dreams.