Simonds Files


   
 

Tools and Woods with Bob Smalser


 
  Snow Today Here at Sprague Pond  

 

 

Who’s 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.

 

 

 

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

 

January, 2004

 

 


 
Learn how. Discover why. Build better.
 

D. R. Barton



   

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