This simple poem has stuck with me for decades.   When I took a Poetry course in a third year English class at UBC we spent an hour talking about the poem.    The instructor was a gifted professor.    He allowed us to find the meaning and allowed for contemplation with some silence between each stanza.

“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.”

I have read a number of analyses of the poem and I find that most of them over-project meaning and intent.   Robert Frost said he wrote the poem in 20 minutes and never added much commentary about it.

This popular poem has been cited by many as among their favorites and for good reason.   It has a musical sound to it, a songlike cadence in iambic tetrameter.   For me and others, it resonates deeply and brings on a personal response.    We have all felt the the beauty of nature, the invitation to immerse oneself in the dark and deep woods, the allure of the winter forest, and the quiet peace of wind and snow.    The poem is a singular moment of appreciation, one that calls to us all, but we all have “miles to go before we sleep,” and so we move on to the next practical steps of living our lives.

The key is to return to the forest for its restorative power to enrich our lives and to continue to ramble on for as long as we can.

Frost’s reading of the poem is my favorite: