Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening | Robert Frost

The last stanza of this poem pops into my head late at night when I am busy and longing for bed, yet with so many things I am compelled to finish before I do. This was the case last night, so I thought I would share its full loveliness with you today. I will have to dedicate a piece of jewelry to this poem.

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 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

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