Anthology 37 - Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

There's been much talk - though little evidence of - snow in the UK* over the past couple of days, so coming across this poem against that background makes it seem apt. I make no apologies for including this second poem in the space of three weeks by Robert Frost!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by 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.

Andrew

*I tend not to watch the News or Weather Forecasts and I've not seen any here in Bristol.

Anthology 35: The Road Not Taken

It's been a while since I added to the Anthology strand of this blog - something which I hope to rectify in the coming year. Poetry is going to be making a comeback on these pages!

Looking for something to re-start the strand, I chanced upon Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken. At a time of year when both looking back and looking forward are national pastimes - and when many people opt to make major life choices - it seems most apt.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Andrew