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...And miles to go
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 bell a shake To ask if there is some mistake, The only other sound's 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.
Jain Education International
Robert Frost (1874-1963)
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