Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

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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.

-Robert Frost, New Hampshire: A Poem with Notes and Grace Notes
(New York: Henry Holt and Co., 1923), p. 87. D-11 0397 Fisher Library.

About Nel Fahro-Rozi

I’m an avid reader, prolific wordsmith, cat lover, and passionate foodie and traveler. When I’m not in a world of my own with any of the above, I am an entrepreneur, communicator and writer. View all posts by Nel Fahro-Rozi

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