'It's Snowing, Mr. Frost'
Feb 19, 2010 | 907 views | 0 0 comments | 5 5 recommendations | email to a friend | print
"Whose woods these are," grown deep with pine,

Sweet gum, live oak, wild berry vine?

These quiet woods, now still with snow,

With budding daffodils below.

"Whose woods these are," laced white with snow,

On green, tall pines, like Christmas, grow?

A glimpse of deer, a perfect sight,

Before the dusk becomes the night.

I know these woods, with ancient pine.

Sweet gum, live oak, wild berry vine,

I know the cottage that tops the hill,

The warmth inside the windowsill.

This land, Dear Robert Frost, I know,

The awesome beauty of falling snow.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,"

And, for a while, are mine to keep.

By Elaine Melugin Gurley, written in my little, yellow cottage in Simpsonville, Texas, February 12, 2010, to pay homage to the poet,

Robert Frost, in reference to his poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," The Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World, Vol. II, page 1134.

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