看过一首诗，很有点它的
味道。When you are old and gray and full of sleep.
And nodding by the fire, take down this book.
Your eyes had once, and of their shaws deep.
How many loved you mements 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 eside the glowing bars,
Murmur m a little sadly, how love fled.
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And paced upon the mountains overhrad, And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.