Wednesday, August 3, 2016

miles to go

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
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 before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I believe I first became familiar with this poem during my sophomore year in high school.  I remember my English teacher, a tall women with a pixie haircut (although I can't remember her name) sharing it with our class.   She was a very kind and relaxed person and I remember that I enjoyed her class.  I also remember this poem resonating with me for some reason.  There was something about the quiet scene Frost's words painted in my mind that gave me both a sense of peace and foreboding. 
The last two lines of this poem seem to depict my life right now.  These words echo in my head all the time as I reflect on the very long and difficult journey I still have ahead of me.   Yet, in my mind,  I also still see the woods on this snowy evening.  I see the little horse's breath gather in front of him in smoky, warm clouds.  I feel the heat of the horse radiate and warm me against the bitter cold. I see the snow flakes falling softly, gracefully,  and I feel comfort in the lovely, dark.  

No comments: