It was, coincidentally enough, a year after the fellows Williamson and Dickie began stitching together work clothes that poet Robert Frost penned Nothing Gold Can Stay, his enduring reminder of the fleeting nature of all things. The year was 1923. It appeared in The Yale Review, but Frost’s prose crept out of the academic bubble and into the mainstream. It hit a chord, of course, with his readers, all of whom not only understood his intent but had lived it undoubtedly.