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.

Had I the heavens embroidered clothsEnwrought with golden and silver lightThe blue and the dim and the dark clothsOf night and light and the half lightI would spread the cloths under your feetBut I being poor have only my dreamsI have spread my dreams under your feetTread softly because you tread on my dreams.

When You Are OldWHEN 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.

But I being poor have only my dreams I have spread my dreams under your feet Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

One loses as one grows older something of the lightness of ones dreams one begins to take life up in both hands and to care more for the fruit than the flower and that is no great loss perhaps.