Stopping By 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.


Robert Frost (1874 – 1963)

3 thoughts on “Stopping By Woods …

  1. Sylvie says:

    Robert Frost is so wonderful. I just love the way this poem ends.

  2. aquaturtleme says:

    yet another lovely one from Robert Frost… thanks for sharing…

  3. beeseeker says:

    Was reminded of this evocative poem on a walk in Leicestershire recently, it opened up a whole cupboard of memories and thoughts. Wonder where Frost got his inspiration from ?

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