Thursday, April 23, 2009

And miles to go before I sleep

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.
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

iloveyou.

Liv Grey said...

whenever i hear this poem i get so daydreamy.
haha i love it.