And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
But I have promises to keep,
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

Of easy wind and downy flake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
To ask if there is some mistake.
He gives his harness bells a shake

The darkest evening of the year.
Between the woods and frozen lake
To stop without a farmhouse near
My little horse must think it queer

To watch his woods fill up with snow.
He will not see me stopping here
His house is in the village, though;
Whose woods these are I think I know.