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Theappreciationof“WhenYouAreOld”ThispoemchoosesfromthepoetryroseofYeats,whichiswrittenin1893,itisoneoftherepresentativeearlyworksofYeats,addressestohisheartgoddess,whoisalsothemostimportantwomaninhislife.“Whenyouareoldandgrayandfullofsleep,andnoddingbythefire”,thepoetstartswithapencillikepaintingapicturewhichinterlacestheshadowwithlight,novividcolor,atmosphericbackgroundandlingeringcharacters’move,onlyaquietlifefabricofoldage.Althoughatthistime,Yeatswasonly29,hisloverwasonly27yearsold,butthewhitehead,Sleepgiddy,snoozingbythefire,asimpleimage,butlettimerapidlymoveforthtothefutureofher.Atthattime,shelostthecharmingappearance,lostfreshyouth;maybethereaderscan'thelpasking:whatkindofemotionisthepoetforheratthattime.“Takedownthisbook,andslowlyread,anddreamofthesoftlook;youreyeshadonce,andoftheirshadowsdeep”,veryfewwords,thepoetleadherexperiencehisdeepfeelingslowly.Letanoldwomantolookbackmayseemtobecruelandthegapbetweenofthecontrastwilldiffuseintheheart.Andinthisgap,thepoetgraduallyrecognizesthefirmlove,whichlikesanunexpectedgift,asurprise.Asifthegentlestreamarestartingtoflowfromtheicebergandmeltingslowlyoutofit,withthehugesource,whichisalongprocess.Theconceptionoftheoriginalwholepoeminthefirststanzadescribesthatanoldwomanlooksbacktoherlovewhenshewasyoung.Whatislove?Perhapsitisonlytheonewhoisreallyexperiencedthatkindofrealemotioncanhavesincerelyfeelingsofitsappearance.Butnomatterhow,thememoryofloveisthesweetestandmostoftendoeswhenheorsheisoldjustaswhatiswritteninthepoem,beautyisold,theappearanceisgone,andsheissittingbythefireandstartsreviewingthepastlove.“Howmanylovedyourmomentsofgladgrace,andlovedyourbeautywithlovefalseortrue;Butonemanlovedthepilgrimsoulinyou,andlovedthesorrowsofyourchangingface”,sincethepoemhasalreadyopened,thefeelingofthepoethasbeenreadslowly,aftersolongtrial,hecan'twaittocontrastwithotheradmirer,andexpresshisstrongfeelinginhisheart,whichhasbeenshakinghisemotion.Other'sfalseortruehaspassedthroughherlonglife,whilehislovetoherpilgrim'ssoul,sweetandsad,inafewyears.Thefaithofloveletpoetcouldnolongertellcarefully,finallyhesorrowsunbearably,andcompareshimselftotheonlypersonpassionatelyandproudly;Onlyamanisthemostinteresttoherpursues,beyondtime,spaceandsecular.Ofcourseafterunderstandingtheheroineofthepoetry,thereaderiseasytoknowthatsheisafreemovementwarrior,sheandYeatshasthecommonidealandpursuit,thatisthestrugglefortheliberationofIreland.What’smore,Yeatsisalsoapoetwhopossessesmysticism,romanticandaestheticism.Atthistime,thestreamofloveasifthefloodinthevalley,fastbutstilllonely.Thethinkingoftheloveisawakeningslowlyinthememory,facingsocrazyprofession,sheshouldjoyorgrieve?Thispoemisdeepenedinthefinalsection.“Andbendingdownbesidetheglowingbars,murmur,alittlesadly”,theshakingfireshinesuponthewitheredappearance;thescreenisvaguewithlightandshade,sothatreaderscan'thelpimaginingtheoldwoman’smood.Isshemourningthefleetingofyouth,orthetwiningoflove?Onceletpoet’feelingburyingintime,thepasteventsinthetimecan'tbechased,onlythememoriescangivesomeconsolations.“Howlovefledandpaceduponthemountainsoverhead,andhidhisfaceamidacrowdofstars.”Withthetimegoes,whichtouchedtheoldwomansomuch,loveisalsometsubsequentlyslipaway?No,thereissuchakindoflove,itremains,itisjustnotberesponded,anditcan'tfinditshabitats,butitisveryclingingtosurvive,orsteppingonthemountaintop,orimpalinginthestars.Thepoet'slove,isnotaccepted,issweettorment,andhateiswovenintotheforeveraltered.Atthistime,theemotionalstreamhascometotheestuarysoftly,goingtotheocean,andsinkingintothedeepend,whosesurfaceiscalm.Themonologue,endlessmilesoffaithfulattitude,endlessgrievanceandinjusticeofthepoet,theseallreturntothesilentwaitinginreallife.Finally,theloveasiftheloftyandcoldstarsonthetop,whichhavetheinsurmountabledistance,butneverfailstostareather.Suchenduringlovemaypuzzlethereaders,theystillneedtopackuptheirheartagainandreturntothereasonreluctantly.Itgivesaneverlastinganddivinethemetolove,makingthereaderfeelthegreatlovesuddenly,andthepreciousoflove.Letthereadertobeaffectedbyboththesentimentalandtheencouraging,maybethereisakindoftruelovewhichisnoneedtoown,however,italsotoughexistsandhasbeenaround!Loveistheentireofthispoem;thewholepoemusesthesimplelanguagelevel,butifyoureadcarefully,thereseemstobeamysteriousbreathofstrongwinds.Theloveandthepersistentofthepoet,thesadorhappyofthepoet,nomatterhowourreadersorthetranslatorswhomightfeelthefallinloveofthefeelingcannotreallytakeholdinplace.Bywritingthispoeminthisfashion,thenarratorcouldpossiblyhopetoachieveeitherofthefollowing:thewoman,onceold,willrememberthedayswhenshewasyoungwithhappinessbutgrowregretfulthatshedidnottakeadvantageofhislove,orthewoman,inthepresent,willseewhatanopportunitysheismissingbyignoringhisloveforherandleavinghimtofadeintothepast.