Thursday, August 23, 2012

Snowy Evening

This classic Robert Frost poem was on a sign near the end of Umstead a few years ago when I ran it. It really sticks with me when I run, especially the last verse. 

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.

–Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

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