Line-By-Line Poems: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know,

The woods belong to the beasts below

The ravening, terrible creatures we know

Are hunting for us in the snow

Who is hunting? We needn’t know,

For we know the hunter is a danger us all, when the winds blow

For in the winds, the snow gives cover

Safety from the sun, which will kill tree and clover

Yet also gives them life, and makes them hover

It makes them hover, in their balloons

And sing their merry tunes

And drink the juices of the prunes

And leads to an unpleasant sight

One that causes all witnesses to die of fright.