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.
And I suppose now is my time to sleep
Sleep well, sleep well
May the horror in the long night never clutches you in your nightmare
Angel prays with you by your side
Sleep well sleep well.
I will see you..........
When......
I see you......
And before that, dream well my little angel
May you never need to wake up screaming ever again
Sleep well sleep well.......