Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
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.
QUIET WINTER NIGHT
(inspired by Robert Frost)
Upon a snowy evening,
I sit beside the fire.
The crackling wood is sending sparks,
Up through the chimney higher.
A cup of chocolate in my hand,
A book upon my lap.
The warmth the fireís giving off,
Is daring me to nap.
The flames are glowing yellow gold.
I feel Iím going to sleep,
And settling back into the couch,
No need for counting sheep.
Outside the snow is piling fast,
Against my cabin door.
Iím glad I had the thought,
To buy supplies the day before.
I drift into the land of dreams,
And snuggle in my blanket.
The chocolate added to the cheer,
So nicely when I drank it.
In comfort now, I lay so soft,
And doze throughout the night,
While the hours slowly pass,
And build a land of white.
Anne L. Fulton
July 24, 2003