Nature’s first green is gold, / Her hardest hue to hold.
These are the opening lines of an eight-line poem that ends with the title: “Nothing gold can stay.” Frost collected it in New Hampshire, the volume that won him his first Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1924.
Good fences make good neighbors.
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, / They have to take you in.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: / Its loveliness increases; it will never / Pass into nothingness;
All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players;
Because I could not stop for Death – / He kindly stopped for me –