Robert Frost
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweepOf 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.
Check out Voces8 singing this poem as arranged by Eric Whitacre....beautiful.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgcZSiMLjlc&list=RDFgcZSiMLjlc&start_radio=1
Steve_in_Ottawa