Pujit Aggarwal

  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.   Frost owes his reputation today to one of his simple metrical poems and to three public dignitaries who accidentally became its publicists because of its memorability and alleged profundity. JF Kennedy, Jawaharlal Nehru, and Dr. Tom Dooley praised this poem in speech and writing for its inspirational quotient.   Dr. Tom Dooley volunteered his services in Southeast Asia, especially in conflict-riddled Vietnam, as a humanitarian medico. ...