Hello, and welcome back to The Daily Poem, a podcast from Goldberry Studios.

I'm Sean Johnson, and today is Thursday, December 21st, 2003.

And it is the winter solstice.

If you are a regular listener, you may remember a few days back on St. Lucy's Day,

I mentioned that before some medieval

calendar reforms that day, December 13th, marked the winter solstice, the darkest and shortest

night of the year. But these days, it's the 21st. And I thought there was no better day

than this, the darkest evening of the year, to bring

back a poem that we have featured on the podcast before, but it was a number of years ago.

And that is a poem by perhaps the most remembered and recognized and decorated American poet, Robert Frost.

And it is, of all of his poetry, perhaps the most recognized, recited, read, and remembered poem,

The Sopping by Woods on a snowy evening.

I will read the poem once,

uh, muse on it for a minute, and then read it one more time.

Here is Stopping by Woods on the Snowy Evening.

Whose woods these are, I think I know. woods on a snowy evening.

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

sounds the sweep of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have

...