Jan 10: Favorite Poem for Monday

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

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. 

Frost Suicidal?

An old friend of my family who’s garnered great success in the musical arts was once going through a rough and difficult stressful time, and he said to my mom, “All I want to do is run out to California and sit under a tree with a coloring book. I’m not so sure that Frost is talking about a serious desire to commit suicide. He may be. But what comes to my mind is a desire to want to escape from the demands and promises of life and sink into the majesty of his ideal tranquil surroundings.

 

He takes a minute to do so, but like so many of us, he has his allying horse there to tug him to stay on track before too long passes. Like our closest friends, relatives, confidants, or even our spouse, the loyal horse cannot fully understand his rider’s motivation. All he can do is see him through, and encourage staying the course.