'wip ontheeasel uglystart art artiststudi'

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.

— wip