The woods

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. 
Robert 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 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. 

Robert Frost