Saturday, August 9, 2008

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 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.

Robert Frost

Art: "Snowy Forest " by rhomrich

2 comments:

Vickie said...

Now you are making miss my horses. Are you wishing for cooler weather, or is it the miles to go?

Mountaingirl said...

I am just having a poetry moment - I actually have many of them - I miss my poetry books. And Robert Frost is so simple, so clear and well so much more.