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.
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.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if I read any in elementary school...I don't remember doing it.
ReplyDeleteI've always loved this poem. We had to memorize it for school.
ReplyDeleteWondered 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.
ReplyDelete