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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the villagethough
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.
ʫ뱾ж֡
̨ʫˡ뱾Լʫ˻ƲȻ뱾Ϊȡ뱾
ѩҹСפ
ߣ
ϵɭ֣
ķӾǰ壻
ȴڴЪ
Ʈѩ
ҵСһܾȣ
Χʲô˼ң
һĻƻ裬
ֺͱ֮ͣ¡
ҡϵĴ壬
طòͣ
ֻѩƬ
Ҳ
ɭְۣ
ѾԼȣ
Ҫ϶·Űߣ
Ҫ϶·Űߡ
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the villagethough
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.
ʫ뱾ж֡
̨ʫˡ뱾Լʫ˻ƲȻ뱾Ϊȡ뱾
ѩҹСפ
ߣ
ϵɭ֣
ķӾǰ壻
ȴڴЪ
Ʈѩ
ҵСһܾȣ
Χʲô˼ң
һĻƻ裬
ֺͱ֮ͣ¡
ҡϵĴ壬
طòͣ
ֻѩƬ
Ҳ
ɭְۣ
ѾԼȣ
Ҫ϶·Űߣ
Ҫ϶·Űߡ



