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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