Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening Book

This poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost isn't my favourite poem, but it holds a special place in my heart since it's the first poem I remember knowing by heart - not that I recall ever actively trying to memorize it. I memorized it bit by bit, or bird-by-bird if Anne Lamott is around, but it was never my intention to memorize it, it began more like a game.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;

With some lovely illustrations by Susan Jeffers to go along with Frost's poem, I wanted to have a copy of this, and I'm glad that I put this out on the coffee table just before everyone arrived for dinner (and bringing dinner, I might add) the other night.

Sometimes words, songs, images hold so much significance within them that it seems impossible to convey what meaning your heart has assigned them. For me, I remember walking along the pews of the church my grandfather was caretaker of, and polishing the wood, while we would take turns with the lines of poems like this one, he on one side of the church, me on the other. This always makes me think of him, my grandfather, and the sanctity of these words spoken in this holy-to-me place, and the many blessings I have in memories like this one that I treasure.

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.