This must be one of Robert Frost's most well-known 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.

To see others remembering Maire in song, poem and proverb: http://forum.pbase.com/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=47823&sid=43007bc7bde6f9b742565e0da91d6967