Robert Frost: 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 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

One of my favorite poem written by Robert Frost. This poem was in my literature book when I was in class 7 or 8 back in Nepal. This poem by Frost has a deeper meaning than most of the poems that I know. Here he writes about stopping his horse by a lovely wood which isn't near any house, which is probably far away in the village in a wood. There were no people, not even the owner of the farmhouse to watch the beauty of the woods filled with snow on that darkest and the longest night of the year, perhaps it was the winter solstice. 

The author says, his horse must be puzzled that they were stopping there because it was far away from his shelter. Frost was tempted to stay there, because the woods were lovely in their darkness as they were filled by with snow and he probably found heaven there. Frost was 48 years old when he wrote this poem, he was not very old. I think he was frustrated with his life, with the life's daily burden that's probably why he went away with his favorite little horse on that cold snowy evening. But he knew that he had to move on and get back home and deal with life's difficulties. The last phrases which is my favorite "And miles to go before I sleep", And miles to go before I sleep", has for me two different meaning. The first one is he had to travel miles to get back home, to warmth, to the safety but what he really meant was it wasn't his time to die. He had to go a long way before he die, he had to see the world, live the beautiful life, and write more beautiful poems like this. And so he did, he lived to be 88 and died close to 40 years after he wrote this poem.