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.
This poem first appeared here in December 2020.
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We hope you will join us in The Imaginative Conservative community. The Imaginative Conservative is an online journal for those who seek the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. We address culture, liberal learning, politics, political economy, literature, the arts and the American Republic in the tradition of Russell Kirk, T.S. Eliot, Edmund Burke, Irving Babbitt, Wilhelm Roepke, Robert Nisbet, Richard Weaver, M.E. Bradford, Eric Voegelin, Christopher Dawson, Paul Elmer More, and other leaders of Imaginative Conservatism. Some conservatives may look at the state of Western culture and the American Republic and see a huge dark cloud which seems ready to unleash a storm that may well wash away what we most treasure of our inherited ways. Others focus on the silver lining which may be found in the next generation of traditional conservatives who have been inspired by Dr. Kirk and his like. We hope that The Imaginative Conservative answers T.S. Eliot’s call to “redeem the time, redeem the dream.” The Imaginative Conservative offers to our families, our communities, and the Republic, a conservatism of hope, grace, charity, gratitude, and prayer.
The featured image is “Sleigh Ride Through the Snow” (1920), by Hans Michael Therkildsen, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
This poem works like a lighthouse whenever I find myself in dark seas and pitiless nights of melancholy and depression.
This is the most beautiful poem ever written. I wish I were a one-poem poet and had written these immortal lines myself.
Thank you for including this poem by Robert Frost. I learnt it by heart only the other day. It combines simplicity and an underlying depth which only certain poets can achieve. (The reason I learnt it was because I was given a gift of a slim volume entitled ‘By heart: 101 poems to learn by heart’, chosen by the late Ted Hughes, and decided to do just that. As well as the Frost poem I have now learnt a Shakespeare sonnet and poems by Emily Dickinson, Shelley and William Blake.)
One poem of many that makes Robert Frost one of my favorite poets!
An all-time favorite. Very rich with layered meaning while presenting a simple setting and topic. Thank you for reminding me to keep it in memory.
If you love Frost’s poetry, you might enjoy ROBERT FROST: THE POET AS PHILOSOPHER by Peter Stanlis. I always read Frost, I’m a North of Bostoner by birth, but found myself enjoying his work even more after reading Stanlis’s book.
A great poem , Read it in. high school many years ago and remember it well