Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
-Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is in the village though;
He will not seeme 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 the harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only sound's tge sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promise to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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