Monday, December 22, 2008

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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.

Robert Frost

1 comment:

Julie Morrison said...

yeah....this is the one I've been looking for. Love it.
It takes me to the same place again and again, no matter where I am, no matter how many years pass.
No matter what's been going on in my life.
It's a winter time capsule.