Frost

I am a photographer wanna-be. If only I had a good camera. Maybe some day...when I have more money for frivilous things like that! In the meantime...here are a few of my little snapshots...trying to capture winter's silent beauty.

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.