To Stop By Woods on Eve With Snow
I know who holds the lien on this field
His house on our town does yield
He will not see me halt right here
To see his woods with cold flake fill'd
My wee horse must think it queer
To stop sans a barn or house near
'Tween the woods and iced-up lake
Cold as it gets for all the year
He gives his gear straps a shake
To ask if this the course I mean to take
The sole sound left is the sweep
Of light wind and soft blown flake
The woods invite me, dark and deep
But I have vows that I must keep
And miles to go ere I sleep
And miles to go ere I sleep
-- Bob Frost
(done by H.J. Lipt.)
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