I don't read a lot of poetry, but whenever I have a reason to ponder the words to a certain poem over a long period of time, it seeps in and invades me in a way that is powerful and slightly alarming, actually.
So, here is the world I am in at the moment. I wish you could hear the sonorities that Theofanidis wrote to accompany these words, but assuredly, they stand alone just as well.
When You Are Old
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;
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.
