Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I thk I know.
His hoe isthe vilge though;
He will not seespg here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse t thk it queer
To s without a farhoe near
Beeen the woods and frozen ke
The darkest eveng of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is so istake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy d and downy fke.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have proises to keep,
And iles to go before I sleep.
And iles to go before I sleep.