The Common Fate

Robert 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 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.

Editors’ Note: The Yale Review is committed to publishing pieces from its archive as they originally appeared, without alterations to spelling, content, or style. Occasionally, errors creep in due to the digitization process; we work to correct these errors as we find them. You can email [email protected] with any you find.

Robert Frost was an American poet and four-time recipient of the Pulitzer Prize. He died in 1963.

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