Hello, hello! How’s everyone doing this wonderful Wednesday? It’s National Poetry Month, so I’m going to take April easy and just post a poem that I enjoy each week (except, of course, on review day). Mostly because I’m lazy and have nothing good to ramble about. Anyway, first up is Robert Frost.

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.