Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost, 1922 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…

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Flight of Fancy

If I had a magic carpet or a giant set of wings, I’d leave this world of parking lots and noise and motor cars, And I’d fly to far off places, and I’d see a million things, And I’d sleep beneath a canopy of fifty million stars. So play a…

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