Let's see…
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 snowy woods and 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
Such perfection of mood, image, rhyme and meter.
Nicolai Dalchimsky: 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. Remember. Miles to go before I sleep.
“Stopping by a Wood on a Snowy Evening”
The best American poem ever.
I just posted the second best here for general discussion.
I am going through a rough time in my life and both poems inspire me (second to the scriptures)
His poems are not taught anymore because he is dead, white, straight and male.
Frost was a genius. He’s the only one I know who can put a sigh in a poem without using a word.
“And miles to go before I sleep
(Sigh)
And miles to go before I sleep.”
I swear I hear that sigh every time I read this poem.
The thing that I like most about Frost is that you can tell that he loved his audience. He cared. He put everything he had into those poems. I find that totally lacking in modern American poetry. Today’s poetry is one MFA writing to try and impress another MFA. Most of it is the diary of the dysfunctional. Frost writes about a stone wall and a young horse in his first snowstorm. Simple things beautifully described. The work of a master.
>> The woods are lovely, dark and deep
Every year, I re-visit this.
And it is timeless.
My mom drummed this into my head.
And I can never be more thankful for it.