Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

winter forestWhose 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.

 

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