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.
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.
~Robert Frost
This poem (one of the first I memorized) always comes to mind when I'm in the snow.
This morning, the sky and the ground and all that lay in between were the same white.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
This poem (one of the first I memorized) always comes to mind when I'm in the snow.
We had a frozen fog...and it was quite amazing. Hadleigh pulled me to the living room window to show me a large, intricate spiderweb, outlined in frost. Incredible.
I love the quiet stillness, the blanketing of snow. Everyone and everything pauses.
Like my favorite line in the poem:
"The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake."