Whenever I get into my “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” mood, my Dylan Thomas “Rage, rage against the dying of the light!” mode, I think of the little horse that gave his harness bells a shake. You know, that famous poem by Robert Frost, “Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening”, which I’ve memorized:
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 downey 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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Hey Mardé,
How are you ?
Robert Frost is an extraordinary poet that I first “met” in college.
You memeorized this poem? That’s good for working one’s neurons. I only remember having been asked in high school to memorize a poem in English class.”No man is an island, entire of itself…” John Donne.But, I cant remember the entire poem 😆
What the “snowy day ” inspires for me; having the will to continue on, even if your tired or feeling weak.Have a great weekend and take care,
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This is one of my favorites. It’s been awhile since I’ve read it.
Enjoy your weekend.
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Thanks, Barbara and Danielle, for your comments.
Barbara:
I’m fine, I think. (Never know for sure:) Yes, I memorized that poem and a lot of others too. I like to keep my neurons working, as you say, so they won’t give up and quit. That’s a great John Donne poem which I haven’t memorized. I find that if you recycle the poems in your mind every day, once you have them memorized, it burns them in. Is the brain a CD? 😆
Yes, that’s a nice, beautiful little poem by Frost, and you’re right, the calmness of the “snowy day” helps us to go on and not retire to the woods.Danielle:
Glad you liked the poem. Yes, it’s a lovely little poem with that great last stanza. Enjoy your weekend too — it’s already started, hasn’t it.
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No man is an island, entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less,
as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were.Any man’s death diminishes me
because I am involved in mankind;
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee. . . .
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