Day 3, Poetry Month

I walked by a willow that was leafing out yesterday and thought of the first line of this poem. So here it is, just for you.

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.
-- Robert Frost