Friday, December 21, 2012

at the edge of dusk this winter solstice

 Deerfield Farm at the edge of dusk this winter solstice

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost 1874–1963 

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.

I can't help but love Robert Frost.  Who cannot help but love him...his words are just as though
he's read my very thoughts and feelings, even before I knew I thought them or felt them... and puts into words the quiet ache of so much wonder and beauty in our world.~
God bless Robert Frost 


Lady Linda said...

A favorite poem of mine.
Thanks for sharing.

Penelope's Beehive said...

Dear Christine,
Thank you for sharing the beauty of language and landscape...magic indeed!
Wishing you and your loved ones a holiday filled with love, peace, and light.

Susan McShannon-Monteith said...

Merry Christmas Christe' and may all your wishes come true...

Susan xx

Heather said...

How very, very lovely. Merry Christmas and Happy new year to you!~

An Historical Lady said...

I have an old book of Robert Frost poems---(a $2. junk shop find years ago), and have always loved to periodically curl up in a quiet corner of our 18thc. house and read it. My post at present has many photos or our old house in the first big snow of the season, taken just past dawn on New Year's Eve.
I love your photos too!
Warmest regards,