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.
~~~~
I love this poem, friends. Sorry I have been out of touch - but it's for a good reason! I am finally pregnant! Scott and I will be expecting our first child together in July. I have been sooo verrrry sleepy these past three months. Hoping the energy will return soon, as well as my words. Thinking of all you readers and wishing you a very happy and special holiday season. Love, Al
1 comment:
Love this poem Allie. I love Robert Frost. I am also loving your news. I know it's been a long, hard journey and I am pleased as punch for you and Scott!! Keeping you and the little sprout in my prayers! Enjoy every moment, even the sleepy ones! xxoo
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