Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

                                [Poem]
                 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 farm house 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.  
                                               -Robert Frost