A bit of poetry
It's a little odd how indifferent my fellow Americans are to poetry. The Iranians will quote Rumi from memory, the Russians have a whole pantheon, the Chinese, the Indians...
Anyway, my spoof of Robert Frost a few posts ago got this poem into my brain... It is one of my favorites, and I would like to share it with you:
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 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.
Anyway, my spoof of Robert Frost a few posts ago got this poem into my brain... It is one of my favorites, and I would like to share it with you:
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 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.
posted by e-kvetcher at 6:04 PM
1 Comments:
Very strange that you should post this particular poem. When I was very young, I was into barber shop quartets and that sort of music. I made a tune to this poem. It was rather nice, even if I do say so myself.
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