Avatar: Myron Verne
VW: Second Life
Location: Paris
Country: FR
VW: Second Life
Location: Paris
Country: FR
Myron in Winter
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.
(Brrrr...to whisper this poem in the wind and to the snow, I needed to wear Trasgo's warm coat of hermine!)
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.
(Brrrr...to whisper this poem in the wind and to the snow, I needed to wear Trasgo's warm coat of hermine!)
And miles to go before I sleep...beautiful poem, beautiful picture. ; )
I always thought it was appropriate that the author of this poem was Robert *Frost* ...So lovely, thank you for sharing this!
How very handsome, my beloved!... rushing off to the armoire in search of her red winter cloak ~ or perhaps, the black? ...
must find my gloves...i love to have snow ball fights.....so look out all of you!!!
argh...all dressed in red when everything else around is pure white, i'm afraid to be the perfect target!