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"And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep." Viewed from horseback, a very welcoming house in the distance. The house is lit up by the warm lights in the house. It is winter and during the evening. Snow is falling in thick flakes.
Poem written in 1922 and published in 1923 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.
