elperromagico
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Tue Oct-26-04 12:49 AM
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Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening |
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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.
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woofless
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Tue Oct-26-04 12:55 AM
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My favorite Frost poem by far, and perhaps my favorite poem period.
Woof
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wtmusic
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Tue Oct-26-04 01:01 AM
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Everytime, chills up and down my spine.
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DU
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Fri May 10th 2024, 05:41 PM
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