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.
I have had the pleasure to visit my friend Annie’s Farm about 80 miles west of Madison Wisconsin. It’s a true picture of nature’s unabashed beauty. The tracks in the snow let you know that you are a visitor among the coyotes, bunnies, woodpeckers, eagles, and multitude of other beasts.