Forward from JSA: January 1, 2019 marked the return of thousands of previously copyrighted works to the public domain. Writings and other creative works nearly 100 years of age. In celebration of their exiting purgatory and joining their friends in the afterlife, I offer a poem. A good and known one, not any of my drivel – were I ever to be so fortunate as to have written something that others want to read and share beyond my years, the last thing I’d want is to lock it up with a lawyer for 80 years.

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 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.