W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899.

32. The Poet pleads with his Friend for old Friends

THOUGH you are in your shining days,

Voices among the crowd

And new friends busy with your praise,

Be not unkind or proud,

But think about old friends the most:

Time’s bitter flood will rise,

Your beauty perish and be lost

For all eyes but these eyes.