Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaves are flowers— But only so for hours; Then leaves subside to leaves. In Autumn she achieves A still more golden blaze But nothing golden stays. Of white, blue, gold and green, The only colors seen And thought of in the vast, The gold is soonest past. A moment it appears At either end of years, At either end of days. But nothing golden stays. In gold as it began The world will end for man. And some belief avow The world is ending now. The final age of gold In what we now behold. If so, we’d better gaze, For nothing golden stays.