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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.
This poem is in the public domain.
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Robert Frost (1874-1963) was born in San Francisco, but moved to Massachusetts with his family after his father's death in 1885 and, ultimately, lived in a number of homes and farms throughout New England. Though he attended several prestigious colleges and universities, he never graduated from any of them. Nonetheless, Robert spent most of his adult life teaching, receiving more than forty honorary degrees, along with four Pulitzer Prizes. Robert's interest in poetry started early; he published his first poem while in high school, sold his first poem at twenty, and by the age of forty, was one of America's best known and best loved poets. Rural life is a consistent theme in Robert's poetry, as is simplistic language that is pleasing to the ear; he felt strongly that poetry was best appreciated when read aloud.
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TheSilverOne:
A favorite of so many, including me. So visual and serene...a bygone time, when one depended on horses for travel.
Posted 12/22/2014 09:41 AM
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dotief@comcast.net:
One of my very favorite!
Posted 12/21/2014 05:51 PM
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transitions:
The best of his best...I can always hear those harness bells ~ and oh, the miles...
Posted 12/21/2014 03:44 PM
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Jo:
What a marvelous poem today. Always one of my favorites. I could read it again and again.
Posted 12/21/2014 01:16 PM
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paradea:
Robert Frost was a genius poet...so many poems that touch the heart and soul. I have always loved this one and have recited it more times than I can count.
Posted 12/21/2014 10:49 AM
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plgoodman:
Bravo Jayne. Perfect choice for the shortest day of the year. Winter by Robert Frost. What could be better?
Posted 12/21/2014 10:10 AM
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Sherry:
One of my all-time favorite poems!!! Thank you Jayne, and thank you Robert Frost.
Posted 12/21/2014 08:48 AM
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Jean :D:
My mother read bedtime stories to my sister & I but they were always poems. I have loved this poem from little on.
Posted 12/21/2014 08:39 AM
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rhonasheridan:
Once - in the dark and distant past- I was lucky enough to go to a poetry reading by Robert Frost. It was quite wonderful. He not only writes lovely poetry - he is charming.A lovely memory.
Posted 12/21/2014 01:43 AM
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KevinArnold:
What can one say except "Let me read this again?" The absentee meadow owner, the prescient horse, the willful narrator, the final repetition, the words that beg to be read again.
Posted 12/21/2014 12:02 AM
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