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.
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.
This famous poem by Robert Frost is an apt accompaniment to yesterday's snowy painting by Peder Mork Monsted.
4 comments:
Beautiful poem. It does seem to reflect the painting below. Both go well with your new background. I remember reading Robert Frost in elementary school. I always liked his poems.
I wonder if I read any in elementary school...I don't remember doing it.
I've always loved this poem. We had to memorize it for school.
Wondered if the man stopping in the woods was a doctor who needed to be out, even on a snowy night, making promised house calls. His horse was used to getting on with it.
I never thought of it that way. That's a good question.
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