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.

The reason I enjoy this poem so much is because I feel like it captures a certain atmosphere of adventure and (in a good way) loneliness. The woods are described as lovely, dark, and deep, which makes me think that the wonder and beauty of the woods has captured the narrator and made him hesitant to leave. Whenever I imagine myself in the future, I picture myself owning a house deep in these woods, and living freely in an eternal December...with a wolf dog. For some reason I want a wolf dog to be in this poem.