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And miles to go before I sleep. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. 8220;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. But I have promises to keep,.