Promises to keep.

This old favourite this appeared on this Blog a couple of times before but it somehow seems appropriate on this snowy weekend before Christmas;



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.

Neil Harris
(a don't stop till you drop production)
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