We walked to the library yesterday in the afternoon and enjoyed the sunset amidst the snow covered trees in town. As I was making my way down the aisle towards the sewing section, I glanced over and saw Bartlett's Poems for Occasions. It almost seemed to jump off the shelf at me. I am not a poetry buff at all. But this seemed kind of fun to look up poems for certain times of life, like seasons, celebrations and cycles of life. Last night I started skimming through the poems about winter and saw this one by Robert Frost. It reminds me of my childhood in New England with horses, snow, woods and farmhouses. This is a favorite of my mom's that she had framed on the wall for many years.
Stopping by the 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.
~Robert Frost, 1874-1963