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Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know.
His House Is In The Village Thought;
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 Downly Flake
The Woods Are Lovely, Dark & Deep.
But I Have Promises To Keep,
And Miles To Go Before I Sleep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep.
I Was Impressed By This Poem "STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING" Written By 'Robert Frost'
The Last Paragraph
" The Woods Are Lovely, Dark And D