When You Are Old

This I stumbled upon today and was overwhelmed by it, for what it means.
It is interesting how something, someone wrote ages ago, at a different time and place altogether, could mean so much to someone else today; and how a lot of times the intended (or the unintended) and the perceived meanings can be so alike or different, yet, nonetheless relevant. I am truly dumbfound by life as it makes things come across us when they really ought to.

I genuinely believe a beautiful poetry from the bygone era deserves to be shared when they are getting lost in the yellowed pages of old books and among the least browsed pages on the web.

When You Are Old
by William Butler Yeats

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.

Look up poems, probably you will find something befitting your thoughts at this point, and it will mean much more to you than it does to anyone else. Either it may come as an inspiration, or it may dawn upon you a realization or something, but I am sure at least it will make you thoughtful.

And share it, because shouldn’t good things in life be shared?

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