Monday, January 19, 2009

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



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