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, 1923
Watch a video of Robert Frost reciting his poem. - Posted by PC
1 comment:
I adore this poem. The only other Robert Frost poem I am familiar with, I am ashamed to admit, is 'The Road Not Taken'.
His style is so recognisable though that when another of his poems was recited in part recently, I think it was on a TV show, being recited by one of the characters, I instantly picked it as a Robert Frost poem. Just a couple of lines, a mere handful of words, but put together in such a way that surely it could not be the work of anyone else.
Thanks PC, I think I will have a look in the Uni library today for an anthology.
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