Robert Frost

08Dec08

Donald Miller’s recommendation to buy Billy Collin’s new book “Ballistics” led me to the poetry section at Barnes and Nobles.  The book was thin and expensive, so I continued to browse the poetry section because I like to get my money’s worth – not just in quality but in quantity.  ”The Robert Frost Reader” was only a dollar more and five times thicker, so I bought it instead.  I memorized “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost when I was in second grade and I admit I’m not as immersed in poetry as I should be, but it remains my favorite poem nonetheless.  

I re-memorized it so I can recite it for my grandmother when I go home for Christmas; she loves that poem as well.  Here it is from memory (just believe me):

 

Whose woods are these? I think I know.
His house is in the the village, though;
he will not mind 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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