Robert Frost Poem [mystical, feminine]
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British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
whose woods these are. I think I know his houses in the village, though he will not see me stopping here to watch his words fill up with snow. My little horse must think it's queer to stop where no farmhouses near between the woods and frozen lake, the darkest evening of the year. Mhm. He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound. The sweep of easy snow and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep and two miles to go before I sleep, yeah!