Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


As the copyright has ended for one of Robert Frost’s most famous poems and it is a reflection while gazing at woods, I thought I would print the whole poem before the phrases become commonplace on t-shirts, coffee cups, and anything else you can think of. Among other things, Frost’s poem reminds us of how woods can be a call to contemplation.

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.

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