Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY Kaly Johnes
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 soundβs 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.
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Kaly Johnes
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By Kaly Johnes2 years ago in Poets
πβDonβt Mind My Mushinβππππππππππππππππππ
. . . . The Shadow Sword Flies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Captures the Demon Quickly, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . And Can Win Slowly! . . . . . .
By SAMURAI SAM AND WILD DRAGONS ππ a day ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Um no, this isn't your poem. This poem is written by Robert Frost
Lovely poem - I loved these especially: The only other soundβs the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.