Today in Intellectual Heritage my professor began discussion of Platonic love- love of the soul- by putting this poem on the board. I thought it was a beautiful picture of what love should be- a true, unselfish love. It was written by Yeats for Maud Gonne.
When you are old and gray 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.
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