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Question:

Hulloo? Anyone have a clue who this poem's by?

I do, but i feel like asking others to see what they know.

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 sounds 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.


Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: R. Frost, "Stopping by the Wood's on a Snowy Evening".
Chagrin at not being able to bask in the glow of a moment of peace and freedom from duties, yet a chance to breathe a little.