Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Stopping by woods...

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost (1874-1963)

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.


This is one of my favourite poems. I find it very inspiring especially when the vagaries of life tend to have a wearing affect on me. Going through this poem and contemplating on it rejuvenates me and kinda brings me back to life...