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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, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem.
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- Robert Frost
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” ~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 farmhouse near. Between the woods and frozen lake. The darkest evening of the year.
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Stopping by 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 farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. 1923. 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 ll up with snow. My little horse must think it queer 5 To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. 1874 –. 1963. 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 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.
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STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING – 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 farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
