Reviving Sir Robert Frost : And Miles To Go...Continued

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 sounds 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.

Desire in my heart forms a heap,

Stunned by woods' beauty, I weep.

But I won't stop 'cause there are,

Acres of corn field yet to reap.

Both the thoughts are still at par,

My heart with mind is caught in war,

Leaving the snowy woods I've to move,

Following that bright still north star.

In state of such dilemma you've,

To make one choice and prove,

That you can never have it all,

How much ever you desire the grove.

My wish is naive but promises are tall,

Now they give my weary spirit a call,

So let the white snow flakes fall.

So let the white snow flakes fall.