Whose woods these are
I think I know
She leaves her paw prints in the snow.
She decides she will be stopping here
To watch the woods fill up with snow.
My little dog must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods
and frozen lake
The darkest morning of the year.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But she has promises to keep,
And miles to go before she eats
And miles to go before she sleeps.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
~by Robert Frost
rewritten in fun