Stopping by the wood on a cold evening…
where I am, I’m yet to know.
He lives in the village, and so
he does not expect me to stop here,
as the woods slowly fill with snow.
Even my horse finds it queer
to stop so abruptly here,
between the woods and frozen lake
on the darkest evening of the year.
Though he gives his bells a shake,
I assure him that there’s no mistake.
For in a wood so dark, I find it best,
not to carry on for his sake.
The woods are lovely, and I’m a guest.
And I shall now just take my rest,
Just as the birds return to their nest.
I have miles to go and minutes left.
But tomorrow, I shall do the rest.
Note: In response to Robert Frost’s ‘Stopping by the wood on a snowy evening’. This is not plagiarism.