Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
1874 to 1963
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Whose woods these are I think I know.
His is in the village though;
He will not see stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But have promises to keep,
And miles to go before sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.