Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farm-house nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.
He gives the harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound's the sweepOf 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.
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