Gold
Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets. The following is one of his shortest and simplest works, yet it carries so much meaning. At first read, it may sound bleak, depressing even. I challenge you to look beyond the surface, and see, as I do, the wisdom in his words of advice.
Nothing Gold Can Stay, by Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
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Krazy is the New Black 