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Thursday, March 26, 2009

No Fishing Lately

So, I thought I would break out the 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 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's 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.


bigpopper said...

I do like some Frost, I need to read more poetry that's connected in nature. Thanks for the posting.

Moderator said...


I am going to Troutfest in May and am looking for people to fish with.