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@Shailaishrah

Woods

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 away before I sleep, And miles to go away before I sleep. *In my next article i will tell about this poems summary if you want to read then keep in touch..*. *If everyone like my poem then give Valuable to encourage me keep writing more and more..Thank you.*

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