Tracks in Snow, COPYRIGHT 2009 JonesMoore
I have a cold, my son has a cold. He's home from school today. It's wet, gray and dark by 4:30 in the afternoon. Yet, I came across this poem, one that I had used in a recent collage class. I'm sure that you have heard it.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost (1923)
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.
(I feel better now...)
