这是谁的树林我心明白      

附近村里就有他的房宅      

他未必看见我经过此地      

驻足观赏林中白雪皑皑      

我的小马一定觉得怪异     

为何停在不着村店之地     

除了树林只见冰封湖泊     

一年之中最黑暗的夜里     

它摇了摇马具上的铃铎     

仿佛在问可有哪里出错     

耳旁掠过唯一细微声音     

那是清风吹拂雪花飘落     

树林幽深可爱引人入静     

但有承诺在身我当履行

睡去之前还剩几哩路程     

安眠之前更有长亭短亭     

附原诗 

STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING”

By Robert Frost

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 promises to keep,                 
And miles to go before I sleep,             
And miles to go before I sleep.