The Mind is a Strange and Wonderful Thing

Many, many years ago (ie. twenty) I had to memorize a poem for school. So, with my Dad's guidance, I chose a poem I liked, memorized it, read it at the poetry reading, and won a small trophy for my efforts.

As I was in the shower this afternoon, out of nowhere, the poem suddenly started running through my head. So, here, for you to enjoy is one of the classics that has always rung true for me and which apparently, still resides, unforgotten, in the recesses of my mind.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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.

-- Robert Frost --