Stopping ... (for a moment)
26Stopping 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.
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@f00l
And it really is today! Perfect timing! Thanks for posting this.
@therealjrn
But …
Promises to keep.
I love that poem. But every time I hear it, I find the next morning that something has been blown up. Odd.
@f00l, meh.com’s very own little ol’ downy flake!
@UncleVinny
Indeed.
@mfladd
Dean Martin?
@f00l
Saw this thread, and thought of the winter.
Two years ago, the park a few blocks from my house.
Two years ago, a little guest taking shelter on my front porch.
@moondrake
Are you from the future?
@moondrake
Those are gorgeous.
@mflassy Those are actually all color shots. There just wasn’t much color showing.
@moondrake
Is that a wall I spot, or the roof to the entrance of an underground bunker?
@mflassy In the third shot? It’s the smaller of two decorative stone bridges in the park. My medieval group fought 1,000 battles to hold that bridge. Bloody knuckles all around. It’s said you aren’t a true citizen of the Kingdom of the Burning Lands till you’ve given your ounce of flesh to the little bridge.
@moondrake
Implying you were there at the time
@mflassy I’m a founding member. Dues long since paid.
@moondrake
Really tempted to make a joke or two at your expense.
@mflassy
@moondrake
@mflassy You wouldn’t be the first.
Instrumental. Carol of the Bells.
Arranged for twelve cellists. Performed, courtesy of overlays, by one.
(From ThePianoGuys)
(Was a tolerable schoolkid cellist once.
Nothing like this, tho.)
A movement from Frostiana, Robert Frost poems set to music by Randall Thompson. One of the most perfect choral pieces ever written. Our choir sang it last May. (This is not our choir. These guys are better.)
If you want to hear the entire work. (Again, this choir is better than ours. But we had a bigger audience. Which is a shame, because they’re very good.)
I’m a “Birches” man, myself.
@meshneiarin
Birches abide, also, on the darkest evening.
Near the stone wall
I see ice, but no fire.
(Perhaps fire will come later. If if does, will that make all the difference?)
Rural New England has been a fine hunting ground for poetry.
/giphy birch bending
/image “winter trees”
@f00l
There’s a saw out there somewhere, too, snarling and rattling. Snarling and rattling.
@meshneiarin
I know.
And some stone men, as well.