Tag Archives: Robert Frost

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


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.

Robert Frost (1874-1963)


Robert Frost

Going for Water

By Robert Frost

The well was dry beside the door,

 And so we went with pail and can

Across the fields behind the house

 To seek the brook if it still ran;

Not loth to have excuse to go,

 Because the autumn eve was fair

(Though chill) because the fields were ours,

 And by the brook our woods were there.

We ran as if to meet the moon

 That slowly dawned behind the trees,

The barren boughs without the leaves,

  Without the birds, without the breeze.

But once within the wood, we paused

 Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,

Ready to run to hiding new

 With laughter when she found us soon.

Each laid on other a staying hand

 To listen ere we dared to look,

And in the hush we joined to make

 We heard – we know we heard – the brook.

A note as from a single place,

 A slender tinkling fall that made

Now drops that floated on the pool

 Like pearls, and now a silver blade.