Wednesday 9 November 2011

miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep


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's 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.
"