Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

1874 to 1963

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Whose woods these are I think I know.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
My little horse must think it queer
The only other sound's the sweep
But I have promises to keep,
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
He will not see me stopping here
To stop without a farmhouse near
His house is in the village though;
To ask if there is some mistake.
And miles to go before I sleep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

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