Poem of the Week: Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
- by Robert Frost (1874-1963)







~ ~ ~
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.
~ ~ ~


I have always loved this poem, since first reading it as a child. I remember this one, as well as The Road Less Traveled, probably from around first or second grade. I also remember memorizing both, one for school I think. But they have been favourites for me ever since...

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