Snow In Literature: Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask[Read More…]