Thursday, September 24, 2009

Home is Where the Heart Is

I think that is why I have been in a constant state of discontent, battling an upheaval of conflicts, and staring at countless sheep.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.

                                ~ Robert Frost





devyn





1 comment:

Shanna said...

I LOVE this poem...the last stanza is exactly how I feel these few days.

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