Whose woods                   I know.
 His house           village, though;
 He will            stopping here
 To watch                   with snow.

 My little                  it queer
 To stop           farmhouse near
 Between the           frozen lake
 The darkest            the year.

 He gives                   a shake
 To ask             some mistake.
 The only               the sweep
 Of easy          downy flake.

 The woods                  and deep,
 But I               to keep,
 And miles              I sleep,
 And miles              I sleep.