Last line of Frost's poem "Birches":
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

I can remember swinging birches, but my kids never got to do it. The once prevalent birches are now few and puny
because of leaf miner disease. I am fortunate to have had
much of the best of two worlds. I had hundreds of acres of
woods I could roam in with complete freedom. Before my kids
were old enough to go into the woods, the goddam drug dealers had forced police to put all woods off limit to anybody.
Kids today can have no idea what Frost was talking about.
Nostalgia can be bittersweet.