The Old Women

And all these have been loved.

And not one ruinous body has not moved

The heart of man's desire, nor has not seemed

Immortal in the eyes of one who dreamed

The dream that men call love. This is the end

Of much fair flesh; it is for this you tend

Your delicate bodies many careful years,

To be this thing of laughter and of tears,

To be this living judgment of the dead,

An old gray woman with a shaking head.