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's 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.
MOST OF THE POEMS, IN MY PAGES ARE MEMORIES
OF YESTERYEAR,WHEN I WAS A STUDENT .
OF THE LAWRENCE SCHOOL
LOVEDALE.
ENGLISH PROSE AND POETRY FACINATE ME,
POEMS ARE SO MEANINGFUL
AND THEY EXPRESSES DEEP HUMAN FEELINGS.
THANK GOD FOR THIS , FOR WITH OUT POETRY
I WOULD BE LOST FOR WORDS
DEDICATED TO MY ENGLISH TEACHER MR MAC MOHAN
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