It is Almost the Year Two Thousand

by Robert Frost

To start the world of old

We had one age of gold

Not labored out of mines,

And some say there are signs,

The second such has come,

The true Millennium,

The final golden glow

To end it. And if so

(and science ought to know)

We may well raise our heads

From weeding garden beds

And annotating books

To watch this end de luxe.