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Oct. 17th, 2004 @ 02:28 pm When you see this, post poetry in your journal...
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
suricattus Made me do it!

I'm probably the least literary person here, so I'll just go with what I like:

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
By 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 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 think I heard this first in the early mid sixties, it kind of set the tone for much of my adolescence.
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Chillin