Robert Frost

Nursery rhyme indeed---- the line I was thinking of yesterday came from a poem by Robert Frost, which was sent to me this morning by my friend F up in NY.

Lest that I get a letter from a descendant of Mr. Frost, I will re-print his poem here..... with thanks to F and apologies to Mr. Frost.




Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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's 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.