As winter leaves us, it's depths seem more appealing than they used to be. That strange twilight of clouded winter days, that mist in the woods filled with snow, it's very unique. It's like a dream and yet an adventure that you're not sure you want to venture into. Hiking short trails in the winter can be a really fun experience, the atmosphere really cannot be reproduced anywhere else.
One poem this brings to mind is the famous American poet Robert Frost's [1874-1963] "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening"--here are more poems of his, and to hear/listen more of his work look here; his most famous poems also include "The Road Not Taken" and "Fire and Ice". Frost won four Pulitzers for poetry.
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.
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.
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