When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
and nodding by the fire, taking 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 to love floed
and packed upon the mountains overhead
and hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
When you are old, your hair is gray and you are sleepy,
When you are sitting by the fire, take down this book,
Read it slowly, and dream about your eyes
.
How many people have loved the shadow of your youth,
loved your beauty, with hypocrisy or truth,
Only one person loved your pilgrim's heart,
loved the traces of years on your sad face.
By the grate, you bent down,
whispering, with shallow sadness,
how love died, how to step on the mountains,
how to hide your face among the stars.
There are many translated versions, some of which are similar to the lyrics.