On a snowy early winter morning here in Colorado (and across much of the nation, it seems), this Robert Frost poem seems like an apropos selection for today’s blog entry. Frost actually wrote the poem on an early June morning after staying up working all night on his long poem New Hampshire, the foundation poem for his 1923 book by the same name – and a book that would win the 1924 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.
After the long night at his desk, he went outdoors to view the sunrise and instead, clearly saw
(in his mind) the scene that became this poem.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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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