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 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,
“The more we know,
the more pain we have.
But because we are human beings,
this must be.
Otherwise we become objects rather than subjects.”
Thinking and holding all those in the North Eastern states in my thoughts and prayers- Sending love, warmth- Stay safe
You’ll have to pardon
me if the last storm
Didn’t catch me by surprise
It seems to be common here:
Without notice, or warning
Just out of know where –
blue, then Green
clouds in my horizon
A magnificent show
You know, tossing forth
From one cloud pillow to the next
Edward Munch for real
victim and innocence, no meaning
In one steady sweep
Just another storm
from the North, of course, of course
2015 COPYRIGHT PROTECTED © Cynthia L. Baker
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“I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me,
merely because you are older than I,
or because you have seen more of the world than I have;
your claim to superiority depends on the use you
have made of your time and experience.”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
“Sigh no more,
sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,-
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.”