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
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
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.
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.
1 comment:
Happy New Year to you too!! You sure have a knack for what to put in your blog!! I looked out the window this morning and I was thinking--it does look like a bit of winter wonderland--thinking we should take a ride to the country and see how it looks--and then I go on line and there it is!!!! and a great poem to boot!!! thanks for your addition!!!
Lets start the New year right--I think I will stop over later!!!
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