Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
R. Frost
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.
stumbled on the above poem while surfing. quite like it although I don't know much about Frost's other poems, except for the overquoted "two paths diverged in a woods" poem.
Comments (3)
the last two lines always have a "it's still a long way home, but things are gonna be all right soon" effect on me. mildly depressive in a subdued optimistic way.
.............
am i even making sense?
Posted by nyx | February 28, 2007 8:40 AM
Posted on February 28, 2007 08:40
weird dude, i was just bumping around last night and i bumped into robert frosts' work! and here it is again.. bizzare.. hahaha
Posted by eu jin | March 2, 2007 9:21 AM
Posted on March 2, 2007 09:21
you know how they say its not the destination but the journey that counts? i think this is a nice poem for people who have their minds set on their destinations, but love to indulge and stop midway through their journeys to ponder and soak in that moment between the past and the future.
hmm.
Posted by thisguy | March 2, 2007 9:46 PM
Posted on March 2, 2007 21:46