And miles to go before I sleep

Stopping By the 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 farm house 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 east 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. 

~