Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Winter Snow

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost


chili pepper said...

This is one of my long time favorite poems.

Miss Elizabeth Rose said...

@chili pepper -- Mine, too! My mom used to read it to us in the winter all the time, so I have fond memories of it. :)