Stopping By Woods On A snowy evening!

I feel like retrospecting these days, and that reminds me of all the days gone by when "getting high" meant on to the swings, when "dad" was the only hero I knew of, when "dad's shoulder" was the highest place on earth, when the only thing that could hurt were "skinned knees", when only things broken were your "toys" and when "goodbye" meant only till tomorrow... and when I think of all these, I feel life has changed a lot from then to now.. But one thing that hasn't yet changed is my love for good writings and poetry, the surreal world it drags me into, the never ending fantasies and the beautiful world it used to create in front of my eyes, and I used to dip myself into that world for hours together...world created by masters like Frost, Blake, Yeats...and today, thanks to Larry Page and Sergey Brin that I can again go back to those times and Live those moments again and quote them here and share it with all the people who love to get lost into their fanatasies!!!

I would start by my fav poem...

"Stopping by Woods on a snowy evening"

Whose woods these are I think I konw.
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 bell 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.

Robert Frost.