Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
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
9 comments:
This is the kind of woods I think of when I read that poem. It could easily be New Hampshire, a state I have spent many happy hours in.
Thanks for pairing this picture with the poem. Both are beautiful.
Gorgeous shot and lovely poem...
The snow capped fence makes a great visual subject in this nice snowy shot. Very well done.
Love the photo! For some reason the poem is in wingding font on my computer...weird!
I have loved that poem since my youth.
This is a perfect photo to go along with it. This one reminds of the deep snows from childhood.
Very nice Rose!
great shot, could be by our place as well,
Gill in Canada
Looks normal today :-)
That fence is fabulous....so much character! The the frosting of snow is perfect.
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