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

Though tarnish turns to grey
Gold’s lustrous yellow ray,
And time will from my mind
This beauteous image grind,
Still wondrous is it now
Though brief across the bow;
This one way trip to sea
Is gold enough for me.