Taking a Breather

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’s 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.

-Robert Frost

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Published by

assaultdog0351

I locate, I close with. I Joined the Marines in 2005... Currently, doing all kinds of fun things. I enjoy long walks on the beach, candle lit dinners, bacon and guns. Proud husband and father.

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