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.
One of the most beautiful poems i have ever read....Gosh..its been 15 long years...i still very clearly remember sunita miss's(my english teacher's) reaction when i had summarized this poem in the class.... class V (A)...:)...maybe for a 9 year old even attempting to decipher a Robert Frost masterpiece at that time was unimaginable but now when i look back at those daysi feel...i had only sparingly understood the gist then...& as for what i know of it today...time's running...i should spare time only to take a deep breath & resume fulfillments...coz i may be sleepy any time...
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