Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.
This poem makes me think of my ancestors in the thick of winter on a long journey. I close my eyes and see John J Dillon as a young man taking time to rest during a long trip and taking in the moment. He is leaning against the cold bark of a tall hemlock while reflecting on the days events. Perhaps he is on a journey to fight for the rights of dairy farmers. He looks beyond the dark horizon and remembers his father and mother, makes a prayer and says "But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep..."