WHEN YOU ARE OLD
When you are old and grey 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.
– William Butler Yeats
This is a poem that’s perfect for bedtime, somehow, and even more perfect for a Monday night. In my not-so-humble opinion, that is. Yeats was a bit of an emotional sadist, really. In a good way.
Natalia A. 
That’s a nice bedtime poem.
My favorite poem is the Unknown Citizen by WH Auden, and as a close second Dulce Decorum Este by Wilfred Owen.
:))))))