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.
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.
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
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.
happy day!