喜欢的小诗一首

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