بنام خداوند جان و خرد کزو برتر اندیشه بر نگذرد

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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}