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 Oct 2012 Elizabeth
Robert Frost
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.
I’m tracing my
insufficiencies on
the backs of my
eyelids again and
I’m trying to stop,
but for some sick
reason, the only
thoughts that
replace the ones
that I’m bound by
are equally, or so
much more
disturbing.
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