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.
Kind of dark and mysterious, in this particular work the poet has explored the beauty of winter and frost, a time when plants usually wither away. Even at it’s harshest, nature has a soothing quality to it. One can explore the beauty in all the lifelessness of frost. There are times when we find our journey to be more beautiful than the destination, but no matter how much we want to stay, we must go on.
Title: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Year of Poem: 1923
Writer: Robert Frost
Birthplace of Writer: American