Her eyes had dimmed,
Yet was seen still that spark,
The grey glitter once the light,
upon the feet of many a man's heart,
Her Cheeks wrinkled,
Yet was seen still that blush,
The magnet once tempered,
To draw the heart of many a suitor,
As Yeats said of his unrequited love,
One man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face,
My love remains without reasons, without seasons.