Tuesday, 8 May 2012

Michael Harris (my dad's poem)

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.
My dad (David Harris) chose this poem because it was one of the first poems he learned as a kid and it reminds him of the pathway at the family cottage during winter. He has been going to that cottage since he was three years old.

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