February 5, 2008 • 5:54 am 1
Momentary beauty
in what may have been a dream
mysterious and lovely
quiet and serene
if in a dream it was we met
appropriation of
all beauty and truth beget
you; mysterious icon
Haunting my imagination
puzzling vapors and remnants
the you of my creation
thought of which leads to divinity
January 26, 2008 • 7:36 am 3
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’s 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
I try to keep my eyes open for experiences like this every day. A moment or two of pure beauty. I am not sure I agree with everything this poem has to offer up(I mean doesn’t life itself have the potential to be beautiful, could the promises that we have to keep end up being beautiful as well?), but the place it takes me is magical.
ryan
*photos from The Walden Project
Filed under: beauty, life, poem, poetry , beauty, poetry, Robert Frost
