Saturday, November 04, 2017

Whenever it snows like this . . .

I can't help but think of Robert Frost's classic poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."

One thing I love about Frost is, of course, his amazing eye for detail.  But I also love his passion for structure.  The rhythm, meter, and rhyme scheme in this poem is so well crafted.

Read this a few times and then look out your window right now (if you live in NW Minnesota, anyway), and you'll have a deeper appreciation of this classic that you haven't thought of since your high school English teacher forced you to read it.

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.

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