Prologue: When you are old and gray and full of sleep

When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, a 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 charming face;

And bedding down among the glowing bars,
Murmurs, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountain overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

–William Butler Yeats

A Blessing and a Grace:

“Some have food, others have none…
God bless the revolution.”

 

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