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 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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Comments about this poem (Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Alfred Edward Housman
(26 March 1859 – 30 April 1936)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Gerard Manley Hopkins
(28 July 1844 – 8 June 1889)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- As I Grew Older, Langston Hughes
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- To an Athlete Dying Young, Alfred Edward Housman
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
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