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 .
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 .
Photographer : Harold Ross
PORTFOLIO MAGAZINE 71