Sunday, April 1, 2012

Sunday Afternoon Poetry #13

Welcome back for today's second posting. This one comes once again from Robert Frost. I have always felt I could truly place myself inside his poetry. As though they were a small play inside my head with me as the lead actor. There is something about his poems that create instant vivid imagery inside my head unlike any other poet I have encountered. I hope you find the same sort of beauty within his words as well. Please, enjoy.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 the 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.

-Robert Frost

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