I read this poem a lot to my youngest sister when she was three and four years old. We both memorized it. Not long after that my dad stopped talking to me for six years because of stuff related to me being psychotic, and I didn't get to see or talk to my sister at all in that entire time.
She's twenty now. We barely know each other.
I still like this poem.
I'm having a hard time right now. Per usual, I cannot sleep. The thoughts are bad. I fight them. I don't give up. This, too, shall pass. This weekend I have to go on a trip to a conference for an organization I volunteer for. I have to be alright and put up a good front.
"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.
Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost. Reprinted with the permission of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
Source: The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (1983)