It is a snowy day and it is quite lovely out my window. I am not one to quote poetry, as some people seem to be able to do. I can never remember the verses. But, for some reason the following poem has stuck in my brain today. It is obvious, but nice all the same.
Stopping in the Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost (1923)
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment