Whose woods these are, I think I know:
Lived in a pretty how town,
Up so floating many bells down
The still lake of Semmerwater
Under the still skies.
With no surprise to any happy flower
A dainty foot donkey that I ride
beheads it, in accidental power.
The blonde Assassin passes on
Up in de hills, where the streams are cool
An mullet and janga swim in de pool,
So rested he, by the Tumtum tree.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near,
I wish you were here, dear
I wish you were here
I wish you sat on the sofa and I sat near
On the chair
The handkerchief could be yours, mine the tear
Quoth the raven, Nevermore.
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run
Maybe it sags like a heavy load
Or does it explode?
Upon a midnight dreary, woods are lovely dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep.