Robert Frost - April 8, Iyengar II

Patricia Wallace sent me this, probably the best Spring poem ever. Who cares if it gets read a lot?!

Nothing Gold Can Stay

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.