Just a brief spiritual moment on the horse, on the long journey home, in the dark.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
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.
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How I love this poem. I learned it by heart in my teens. Now at 62, it touches me even more. Thank you for reminding me of it.
ReplyDeleteSo many images interwoven in the fabric of this one poem. Frost delves through the present into the past and bounces off to the future! No wonder, it enthralls readers for generations, down the lane of time.
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