tirsdag den 28. september 2010

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

This is not my own poetry, but one of my all time favorite poems

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.


by Robert Frost


- qrrez

13 kommentarer:

  1. this is one of my more favorite blog posts from you :)

    SvarSlet
  2. Ah robert frost. Ever been to Dartmouth? There is a statue of him writing in the middle of the woods. pretty neat.

    SvarSlet
  3. No newer been to Dartmouth. Maybe i should go there:)

    SvarSlet
  4. Thats a cool last name... Frost... think about it.

    SvarSlet
  5. well Frost my friend is one of my favorite.

    SvarSlet