Stopping by woods on a snowy evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in this village through;

He will not see me stopping herr

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

Mu 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 promise to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.