A poem on transience, paraphrased by one member of Mansuite.
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.
In autumn she achieves,
A still for golden blaze.
But nothing golden-brown, griddled, with bacon and eggs in the middle stays.
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.
In autumn she achieves,
A still for golden blaze.
But nothing golden-brown, griddled, with bacon and eggs in the middle stays.
what were you doing eating that at 2am?
ReplyDelete