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.

by Robert Frost

Comments (5)

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Vachel Lindsay does not pen shallow thoughts here- his spirituality recognizes and accepts the difficulties we face as we journey to Christ. Excellent
Beautifully penned verse glorifying religious sentiments. Thanks for sharing.
Superb..To that far sky where mystic births begin, Where dreaming ears the angel-song shall win.
No more to sin. Nice work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.