I really like Robert Frost. Because he was so "accessible", is the best word to describe him.
As I've lived many years since then, I lean towards Yeats.
My favorite poem, because I don't QUITE understand it, but I like attempting to.
When You Are Old By William Butler Yeats 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.
When You Are Old ...
Yeats is one of my favorites too. I once visited Thoor Ballylee, his tower home in Galway. One help in understanding, “When You are Old” it is to read about his tempestuous relationship with the beautiful Irish actress Maud Gonne. She broke his heart but his love for her never died.
Your referenced poem seems to me full of regret. Regret in that with the passage of time
(dream of the soft look Your eyes had once), she never quite acknowledged his love for her
(Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled ), and that he had to watch her age without his true love even acknowledged. Seems the woman is passing her youth, reminisces the days he was in her life and very much in love, yet presently she has choosen to ignore his past and present love
IMHO....