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.

This is the most beautiful poem I have read for all of my life so far. However, it is only beautiful so long as one accepts the inevitable change in these things. Those that try their damnedest to hold onto gold are exercising the ultimate futility. Perhaps for survival I have always disassociated myself the best I could from whoever I was only a few years prior. Therefore, I have never dwelled on the nostalgia of my own life but always inappropriately yearned for the eras of others through rose-tinted glasses, like many people do. I yearn for those dawns of years I have never known or have yet to experience.