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'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.









