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.

We love the things we love for what they are.

When I see birches bend to left and right... I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

I write to find out what I didn't know I knew.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.

Some spirit to stand simply forth, Heroic in its nakedness, Against the uttermost of earth.

Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.