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罗伯特·弗罗斯特《雪暮驻马林边》
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 hives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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