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.
BY: ROBERT FROST
FROM THE BOOK "CAROLINE KENNEDY - A FAMILY OF POEMS - MY FAVORITE POETRY FOR CHILDREN"
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