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
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.
Commentary
(1892)
I will leave the analysis to someone better qualified than myself. All I know for sure is that I love this poem, have loved it since the moment I first read it. It was the first piece of poetry I ever sent my wife, back when we were courting. She told me recently that she knew I loved her when I sent her Yeats.
— JP Andrews
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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Suresh Ramasubramanian · 23 May 2000
On 24 May 2000, Martin Julian DeMello saw fit to inform me that:
Reminds me of another favorite - “John Anderson, My Jo” by Robbie Burns.
Robert Burns. 1759–1796
497. John Anderson, my Jo
JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John, 5
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo!
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither; 10
And monie a canty day, John,
We’ve had wi’ ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we’ll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot, 15
John Anderson, my jo.
-s
Suresh Ramasubramanian + suresh (@) kcircle.com+ [broken link] http://www.kcircle.com What ever happened to diversity?…The longer you work here, diverse it gets.
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Young524 · 24 May 2003
THIS POEM IS PROFOUND LOVELY LOVELY.
Soapurr · 21 November 2004
I love this poem, so tender and so sweet……… nice to know that love doesn’t stop from beyond the grave.
“These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves.” - Gilbert Highet
Bacardi52 · 12 January 2006
this poem in the end is not all that romantic. sure he is telling her (most likely maude gonne- who rejected him a number of times- and then he went for her daughter who also rejected him-hmmm was it maude? or did he marry maude? well a girl who rejected him a number of times) i digress- yes he is saying that he loved her for who she was, and not for superficial reason like her beauty the way others loved her. but now she is old and he still loves her even in her old age. but don’t forget how it ends “Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.”
his love fled- well… fled… his love was rejected in the end, and he fled and watches her, in love with her, from afar. so it is saying that he loves this woman whether old or not, and that he loved her for the person she was inside, and it is saying that he still loves her even though he watches from afar. but at the same time it is sad that he has to pace the mountains overhead and hide his face amid stars instead of being by her side in love with her.
gayathri.chandru · 4 May 2007
The poem is mainly about his rejection from Maude, about 5 times,
It pretty much says how she will eventually regret her decision to reject his ‘true’ love.
This poem has a sinister undertone that just creeps me out.
Ndo Nyembezi · 16 September 2007
In my 20’s I was given this poem by my lover at the time. He was roughly 40 years my senior. I had just turned down his marriage proposal. The poem made me love him so much. I still do. Reading it just brings back the saddest sweet memories. Thank you for the sharp relief.
Ndo (South Africa)