Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Snowy Woods

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

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.   


CB said...

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.

I had to memorize that poem in eighth grade and still remember it. I think of it every time we get a real dump of snow. Thanks for jogging my memory.

tagnrocky said...

Love that poem. So fitting for our neck of the woods.