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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Poem By Robert Frost

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.

User Rating: 4,6 / 5 ( 785 votes ) 545

Comments (545)

This poem is a masterpiece, every choice you make in life has its outcomes
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One of my all time favorites the meter flows so well in this poem.
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