The thing I love about Yeats, his profound and strangely appealing grasp of age and mutability.
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
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you..
These days, I sit, nodding by the fire, and look over at my darling, and these words are so true and so right and so of this time.