Dust always blowing about the town, <br />Except when sea-fog laid it down, <br />And I was one of the children told <br />Some of the blowing dust was gold. <br /> <br />All the dust the wind blew high <br />Appeared like god in the sunset sky, <br />But I was one of the children told <br />Some of the dust was really gold. <br /> <br />Such was life in the Golden Gate: <br />Gold dusted all we drank and ate, <br />And I was one of the children told, <br />'We all must eat our peck of gold.'<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-peck-of-gold/
