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.
by Robert Frost
ADDITIONAL POET'S CORNERS:
"Wintering Rosarians" by Gail Lemnah Barnett
"'Tis the Last Rose of Summer" by Thomas Moore
"Autumn Chant" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
"The Fish" by Elizabeth Bishop
"Departmental" by Robert Frost
"City Flies" by Alan Van Dine
"My Neighbor's Roses" by A.L. Gruber