Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening BY 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 sweepOf 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.
How much i adore this poem by robert frost, each word has a deep rooted meaning, the simplicity of words can make u admire his poetry at the surface level but try to invade the beauty of depth of his words........gradually, we all become engrossed in the rut of life & forget to admire the divine.
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