Randall Thompson — 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 farm-house 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 sounds 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