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.

love is giving them your last bite of food
   because you know it's their favorite
love is holding their hand when everyone crosses the street
   because they don't have a partner
love is hugging them goodbye before you leave
   even though you know you'll see them tomorrow
love is hiding in the castle (playground) during recess
   because you want to play for five more minutes
love is being the first person you say hello to when you get to school
   even before you say goodbye to your parents
love is that feeling you get in your stomach when you see them smile
   it feels like the way marshmallows and candy makes you feel
love is having somebody who can make you smile.
   even if you have a bad day
love is the stuff that people write poetry about