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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, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”

I think one of the favorite memories from high school is when I told Mr. Mikkelson about how this poem is about an assassin sent to kill the guy who owns the woods. The assassin, though, has been at it for ages, and is tired of his career. But before he can quit (“before i sleep”), he has certain obligations (murders) to take care of.

I think Mikk said something like, “That’s not wrong. It’s stupid, and out of left field, but it’s not technically wrong.”

High praise.