This morning as I opened the garage door and prepared to enter my car I was presented with a familiar sight. I was greeted by snow on my car. Eventually in my area which lies in the shadow of Lake Erie we get enough snow to make me dread its sight, but the first snow is always poetic. Its arrival made me think of one of my favorite poems and one that will be with me tonight as I make my way to St. Bonaventure University. Whenever I hear the lines of this poem I think of my father who used to recite it to me when I was a young boy.
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