Copy-paste básico, com contribuição querida do meu amigo Fudilson (sem um post de minha parte, digno de transmitir a decepção pela morte de seu blogue). Coisa fina, o senhor William Butler Yeats, cujo poema me veste no estado de espírito e na beleza das lembranças e anseios tímidos:
"WHEN you are old and gray 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".
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