When you are old, and I am passed away –Passed, and your face, your golden face is gray –I think, what’er the end, this dream of mine,
Comforting you, a friendly star will
Down the dim slope where you still stumble and stray.
So may it be: that so dead yesterday,
Not sad-eyed ghost but generous and gay,
May serve your memories like almighty wine, When you are old!
Dear Heart, it shall be so. Under the
Of death the past’s enormous
Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign,
Live on well pleased: immortal and
Love shall still tend you, as God’s angels may, When you are old.
