Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow

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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.
by Robert Frost

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 07, 2018 ⏰

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