Poetry

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her first 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

- - Robert Frost

Please read this before continuing.

I've divided my poetry into two sections, so now you must choose which you want to read from:

Old Poetry

Melodramatic and unskilled, from early on in my poetry-writing "career".

New Poetry

Later works, greatly improved.

Or have you changed your mind, your backbone isn't as strong as you thought, and you wish to go Back?

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