Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Tags
Silhouette
Friday, March 02, 2012
Thursday, March 01, 2012
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 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.
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.
Robert Frost
Tags
La Clusaz
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tags
Beth Nelson
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tags
Pays Basque
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