When You Are Old

WHEN you are old, and I am passed away— Passed, and your face, your golden face, is gray— I think, whate’er the end, this dream of mine, Comforting you, a friendly star will shine Down the dim slope where still you stumble and stray. So may it be: that so dead Yesterday, No sad-eyed ghost but generous and gay, May serve you memories like almighty wine, When you are old! Dear Heart, it shall be so. Under the sway Of death the past’s enormous disarray Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign, Live on well pleased: immortal and divine Love shall still tend you, as God’s angels may, When you are old.