Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening / Robert Frost
Whoose wood there are I think I know His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistakeThe only other sound's the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake..
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2017. 12. 14. 15:01