What perfect timing for this annual winter post. Yesterday Boston was sunny and in the low 60s and this morning it is snowing. Above is a photo I’ve been using in recent years when I publish this poem. It was taken several years ago at dusk, while the snow was still falling. Sergio and I were walking back to my parent’s house on Lake Winnipesaukee.
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.
The poem was written by Robert Frost one hundred years ago in 1922 while he was living in Vermont. It was published a year later in Frost’s New Hampshire volume, earning the poet the 1924 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.
Thanks for sharing this again. Robert Frost was to speak at President John F. Kennedy’s inauguration but the sun blinded the elderly poet and he was unable to recite his work.