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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

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.

The snow is finally here.  The boys are over the moon.  The dog has gone mad.  The perfect present on the last day of the holiday.

(and one of my favourite poems, from me to you)
 

Comments

[kristina]

Oh you're so lucky! I wonder if it will reach us here in London. And I know this poem well: we memorized and recited it in school, and I still know it by heart... K x

[Ali]

Still.no.snow. I am beginning to feel victimized. Bet it all comes tomorrow so the boys can't go back to school.

[del]

Aww, I bet they're all so excited. What about you?

[wendy]

Lucky! We were proud to have frost this morning here in Texas.

And now, my favorite poem, from me to you. I repeat this poem to myself when I want to feel like a fierce woman who is proud of her body that has borne three children instead of feeling guilty for being a couch potato! She wrote this in the early 70's.

Ms. Dog prefers to sunbathe nude.
Let the indifferent sky look on.
So what!
Let Mrs. Sewal pull the curtain back,
from her second story.
So what!
Let United Parcel Service see my parcel.
La de dah.
Sun, you hammer of yellow,
you hat on fire,
you honeysuckle mama,
pour your blonde on me!
Let me laugh for an entire hour
at your supreme being, your Cadillac stuff,
because I've come a long way
from Brussels sprouts.
I've come a long way to peel off my clothes
and lay me down in the grass.
Once only my palms showed.
Once I hung around in my woolly tank suit,
drying my hair in those little meatball curls.
Now I am clothed in gold air with
one dozen halos glistening on my skin.
I am a fortunate lady.
I've gotten out of my pouch
and my teeth are glad
and my heart, that witness,
beats well at the thought.

Oh body, be glad.
You are good goods.

-Anne Sexton

[Petit Filoux]

Oh whao, I remember studying this poem at school!!! Lovely to be reminded of it!! Enjoy the snow!

[dottycookie]

Ah, no sign of it here. I doubt we'll get any, actually. I'd love to have my littlies home again for an extra unexpected day!

[driftwood]

love those snowy photos, and that poem, I've only ever heard the last 4 lines before xxx

[little pink room]

Amazing photos. I can't believe this snow. We've had it for more than two weeks here in the centre of Edinburgh... it's getting to the point where the children are completely indifferent to it! Hope your boys enjoy it! A x

[Emma]

I have never read this poem. Thanks so much for educating me. Is that last photo a negative?

I live near Dottycookie. I don't think we'll get any either.

[Laura]

A smattering of snow in mild Cornwall....love your pictures, is the second one looking up or down, I couldn't work it out?!

[Stephie @ narrativeself]

Beautiful, it's fantastic when something (like snow) reminds you of something else you love (like a poem). We've had our first fluttering of snow overnight in Truro - magical!

[Peggi]

Thank you so much for that, it was quite lovely. I closed my eyes and imagined I was in a quiet, snowy wood.