To Stop By Woods on Eve With Snow

 I know who holds the lien on this field
 His house on our town does yield
 He will not see me halt right here
 To see his woods with cold flake fill'd

 My wee horse must think it queer
 To stop sans a barn or house near
 'Tween the woods and iced-up lake
 Cold as it gets for all the year

 He gives his gear straps a shake
 To ask if this the course I mean to take
 The sole sound left is the sweep
 Of light wind and soft blown flake

 The woods invite me, dark and deep
 But I have vows that I must keep
 And miles to go ere I sleep
 And miles to go ere I sleep

                                -- Bob Frost
                                   (done by H.J. Lipt.)