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;
The older I get, the more I look like Yeats. I sense an affectation coming on.
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;
The older I get, the more I look like Yeats. I sense an affectation coming on.
[Edited on Nov 06, 2005 6:06PM]