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.
\”Stopping By The Woods on a Snowy Evening\”
|Photo by Bruce Barone.|
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3 thoughts on “A Poem & A Photo”
A lovely intermission from the not so lovely task of paying bills. Thanks for the break!
I can smell the trees.How do you do it?Garden & Be Well, XO T
Torrie, I am happy to hear it.Tara, I believe I have been given a gift.