Poems

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
-Robert Frost

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 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.

I Thank Thee
-Sanchita Banerjee

Oh sweet night and blessed darkness
I find succor in thy company.
As I crawl into thy very depths,
Comforting blankness surrounds me,
An insular isolated entity.

Worry, strife, horror and grief
Pass me over as I sleep.
Oblivious like a newborn babe
Cloaked by thee, a shielding cape.

Through the thin separation
Of my perishable skin,
Thou poureth into my very soul.
With love and infinite care,
Thy taketh away my weariness
And maketh me whole.

Oh blessed darkness I thank thee,
For the succor thy provideth to me.