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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy
Evening
by: Robert Frost |
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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 the 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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From "You Come Too", 1916
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