ICE
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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 mines to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs,
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below, --
A universe of sky and snow!
Whittier – ‘Snowbound’
I was fascinated at the quiet crunch of the
ice-covered landscape before me. The only thing moving
were the various birds. Occasionally, I could hear the
crack of the ice as limbs were bowed down by their weight.
The world is cold here - icy and beautiful.
