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Whose Woods are These

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Whose woods these are I think I know. They come not from the village though; From ancient times abided here Vouchsafed the land through fire and snow. The other settlers think it weird* To stop a pipe where no town’s near Between the mountains, sea and lake In midst of climate crisis year. They squawk their anger, heads do shake Vow their livelihood’s at stake. The only sound, the Mounty’s sweep Of Indigenes and other flakes. Though woods stand lovely, dark and deep There’s much to do before I sleep, And broken promises to keep, And broken promises to keep. 2/19/2020 * weird is an imperfect rhyme but the Soup autocensored qu**r

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 2/19/2020 4:50:00 PM
Things could get ugly. This poem is beautiful though. xomo
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Maureen McGreavy
Date: 2/19/2020 9:28:00 PM
I think I remember getting goosebumps hearing that. I do hope he keeps that promise too.
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D.W. Rodgers
Date: 2/19/2020 8:48:00 PM
Thanks Maureen, I hope it does not come to that.
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D.W. Rodgers
Date: 2/19/2020 8:48:00 PM
Thanks Maureen, I hope it does not come to that.
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D.W. Rodgers
Date: 2/19/2020 8:46:00 PM
Wikipedia's account of Frost's poem notes "At the funeral of former Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau, on October 3, 2000, his eldest son Justin rephrased the last stanza of this poem in his eulogy
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D.W. Rodgers
Date: 2/19/2020 8:45:00 PM
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep. He has kept his promises and earned his sleep."
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D.W. Rodgers
Date: 2/19/2020 8:41:00 PM
If only Justin would keep his promises on reconciliation,