Yeats

Had heard of Yeats but never truly took the time to read his poems. Until I read one of his poems in John Irving's widow for a year.
I don't know why I like his poems. But they are simple, maybe a little sorrowful and also beautiful.

When you are old
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.