A PECK OF GOLD

 By; Robert Frost

 

Dust always blowing about the town,

Except when non-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 gold 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”