Let's all take a deep breath and stop hating everything and everybody - I'm as guilty as anyone. We're all here at GFY - maybe its time for a bit of co-operation.
Then again, maybe not.
Everytime I read this poem - and I have read it a LOT - I hear Vincent Price's voice.
Uncle Vinny, I miss you.
Quote:
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.
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Robert Frost. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening. June, 1922. As Freddy Mercury might have said; "Sheer bloody poetry."
I love you all. No matter how little that means to you - it is the truth.
I drop my eyes, unwilling to explain...