Robert Frost (1874-1963): Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

This is one of my favorite poems; I'm posting it in honor of our first real snow of the season, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I do.

Frost's grace of rhythm is sweet and smooth and cool. A jingle of sleigh bells, the soft glow of moonlight on snow, the steaming horse almost conversational, the absentee owner of the land missing out on the whole scene -- it speaks to me in a language dear. ~ R.

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Stopping by Woods
on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost (1874-1963)

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