Friday, December 21, 2007

Frost on Fridays

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.


Anonymous said...

Thanks for the a great visual with lyrics. Looks like you're in a sweet spot for the holidays...

Now for the real stuff -- if you had a stiff breeze coming from the left of the picture, and you hit the hull of your Laser with an old iron and some ski wax, do you think you could pump the sail a couple of times and shoot that gap in the trees?

"My little Laser must think it queer,
on a screaming beam reach this time of year..."

Tillerman said...

Thornton, I think you may be delusional.

Menchuvian Candidate said...

Thinking of your Granddaughter:

This is one of my children's favorites. The poem is one so easily accessible to even young kids, and Jeffers' illustrations optimize that understanding. I like very much, too, that while there is imagery that lends itself to Christmas, and Santa particularly, none of it is chained to those interpretations.

Regardless, this book is why my son knew the poem by heart in kindergarten:)

Tillerman said...

Thank you mc. Isn't is strange and somewhat wonderful how different people can read different interpretations into the same poem? Maybe when I've seen what (if any) other reactions there are, I'll write a post on why this particular poem came to mind.

Litoralis said...

CGITW already has that book.

Carol Anne said...

Ah, I thought I had the monopoly on blogs that deal with both sailing and poetry.

Of course, if you start in on cats as well, I'll know you're out after my territory.

But seriously, yes, it's a great poem. And I love the idea of waxing up the Laser and seeing what it will do in snow.

Tillerman said...

Caro Anne, if I write about cats at all it will only be about such disgusting stories as when my son's cat puked in my shoe last time I stayed at their house.

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