Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By ghowey18, Updated
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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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