I Fail To See What Fun, What

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.

I Am A Writer Of Books In Retrospect. I Talk In Order To Understand; I Teach In Order To Learn.

Haven't You Heard, Though, About The Ships Where War Has Found Them Out At Sea, About The Towns Where War Has Come Through Opening Clouds At Night With Droning Speed Further O'erhead Than All But Stars And Angels And Children In The Ships And In The Towns?

But I Have Promises To Keep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep.

The Rose Is A Rose, And Was Always A Rose. But The Theory Now Goes That The Apple's A Rose.