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.
Editor note: Some or all works by Robert Frost are in the public domain in the United States because they were published before January 1, 1929.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (a MAGA response)
By Dustin Mohagen
Whose woods are these? They’re mine, snowflake.
And such large woods, big price I’ll take.
These woods I got from my old man;
He claimed them with a wooden stake.
Your queer horse can keep on going.
It’s quite late and now it’s snowing.
Be a shame if it came up lame,
Town so far and darkness growing.
Eating horses in Arlington…
The guvmint wants to take your guns…
(He had to pause to catch his breath)
They’re making daughters out of sons.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have bank accounts to keep,
And untold profits yet to reap,
And untold profits yet to reap.
