Tuesday, October 21, 2008

poem about travel

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 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

No comments: