Snowy woods

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.

"Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening" ~ Robert Frost

Listen to the poem:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nie5dGD6OQA&feature=related

Poem read by Gerrison Keller

writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2006/03/07