Forty Trees

I’m sharing two little poems today; both are Robert Frost’s. Both describe a particular color. Both of them, to me at least, speak about this time of year.

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.

Fragmentary Blue

Why make so much of fragmentary blue

In here and there a bird, or butterfly,

Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,

When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?

Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)—

Though some savants make earth include the sky;

And blue so far above us comes so high,

It only gives our wish for blue a whet.