OriginalWhose 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. |
ParaphraseI think I know whose woods these are
But the guy who owns them lives back in the village; He won’t see me taking a break here To watch the snow fall My horse probably thinks its weird That we are stopping nowhere near a farmhouse Between the forest and the icy water On the darkest night of the year. The horse shakes his harness, ringing the bells Almost as if he is asking if there is a mistake. The only noises come from the blowing Of the smooth wind and the falling snowflakes. The woods are beautiful and seductive, But I have responsibilities, And there is so much time left, There is so much time left. |