Robert Frost


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.

Robert Frost

My favourite poem, and probably what sparked my interest in poetry. I read it while reading The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. The meaning that Ponyboy ascribed to it is the same that I take away: of the inevitability of the end of good times and the onset of darkness. I find it rather melancholy.


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