Whose woods are these I think I know His house is in the villiage 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 sounds the sweep of easy wind And downy flake
These 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
The girls ain't cute The boys ain't fine Unless they part of Class '09'
frogsandhoney · Fri Sep 29, 2006 @ 09:47pm · 0 Comments |