It’s Poetry Saturday here! I’ve decided that we’re going to start included some poetry here occasionally on weekends, and this is the first one. By the way, if you’re a poet, let me know and perhaps we can showcase one of your poems here.
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’s 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.
Books by Robert Frost:
- The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems
- The Road Not Taken: A Selection of Robert Frost’s Poems
- Mountain Interval (Classic Reprint)
