I first read this poem when I was about 11 years old. From that moment onwards I have been haunted by this beautiful poem. At every reading the words swell up inside of me and glisten my eyes.
And whenever I am on an edge of an abyss, the words; ‘miles to go before I sleep‘ carry me back to life.
Photography: Shabbir Fakhruddin
Stopping By The 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 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.
Ramblings of a Wanderer 