Feb 122012
 February 12, 2012  Posted by  1 Response »
Two poems and snow

Stopping by Woods on A Snowy Evening ~ 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

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Jun 212009
 June 21, 2009  Posted by  Comments Off
Mansion on a hilltop

  Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other as just as fair, And having perhaps the

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