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Young Writers Society


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You should check for any Miss Spellings.
While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Nothing Gold Can Stay (1923)
by Robert Frost

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.


Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
— Carl Sandburg