Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Anonymous
   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 farm house near
   between the woods annd frozen lake
   the darkest evening of the year
   He gives his little 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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