Merry Christmas

 

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. "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."

 Merry Christmas.

May you find renewed adoration for the Lord, the King of

heaven and earth, this season.

Take a moment to figure out this poem. I assure you, it will make you a little happier today. *Hint* Answer the questions, who is speaking and what promises does he have to keep?