Monday, March 9, 2009

A Robert Frost Memory

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
Robert Frost

Robert Frost is one of my mother's favorite poets and the last four lines of this poem are on her office desk. I remember reading the words out loud whenever I went to her office. We tackled this poem in high school and I was not too surprised when it was discussed since I already knew whose poem it was.

Those were the days...

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