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..... Sahar Raman Deep

Friday, December 18, 2015

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 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

(www.Poetryfoundation.org)