A Peck Of Gold

A poem by Robert Lee Frost

Dust always blowing about the town,
Except when sea-fog laid it down,
And I was one of the children told
Some of the blowing dust was gold.

All the dust the wind blew high
Appeared like god in the sunset sky,
But I was one of the children told
Some of the dust was really gold.

Such was life in the Golden Gate:
Gold dusted all we drank and ate,
And I was one of the children told,
'We all must eat our peck of gold.'

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'A Peck Of Gold' by Robert Lee Frost

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy