STOPPING BY WORDS ON A SNOWY EVENING

for DB

Whose words these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his words fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farm house near

Between the words 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 words 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.