This is one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost that just seems to beautifully encompass the white, silent world of the woods during this time of year. I memorized it as a child and have never forgotten it. What is your favorite winter or holiday poem?

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.