Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening



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.

3 comments:

Susan said...

A super classic, Joe. Frost's imagery is crystal clear; I almost shiver from the cold reading this poem. Thank you.

Dave R said...

My favorite poem, we used it at my Mom's memorial service rather something my zealotly religious brother wanted.

BosGuy said...

I love this poem and typically post it in January or February on my blog as well.