That’s a beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing the wisdom with me, because I must have been too impatient to pay close attention while reading it long ago. Have you seen this one?
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
1922
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.
Nice. I have always loved that. Loved it.
It is so evocative...I can read it, and hear the muffled silence of the snow that sound is absorbed and you can very nearly imagine you actually hear the snow...coming down through the pines, looking out over the rump of the horse in the darkening woods.
I did not live in that time, but reading that poem sure makes me feel as if I did. My wife tells me I was born in the wrong era.
I saw the area where he wrote that up in Vermont.