Snow, Glow, Blow: A Poem

Fluffy, light-as-air snowflakes--

Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day/longest night of the year. On this day, Sweet Tea always treats herself to a street corner fireside reading of Robert Frost's "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening."

This year, however, there's a twist. Seems that some rough drafts of Bobby Frost's greatest works were recently discovered, so--in the interest of literary edification--I've included his original draft of his famous wintry work right here on this esteemed blog. So put on your Snuggie, pour yourself a big ol' glass of Jack mug of hot chocolate, and enjoy!

First, the rough draft:

"The Shit I Put Up With" by Bobby Frost


The wife has pissed me off this year,
So I'm in freezing woods out here.
I hope the dick who owns this place
Won't see my busted trespassing face.


My horse said, "Holy shit, it's dark,"
Then hit a tree and scraped the bark.
Everything is frozen hard.
I wish we'd never left the yard.


The wife and I were up all night:
I say she's wrong; she says she's right.
She threw me right out on my ass--
No time to think--that bitch is fast.


But I'll head home; won't be a slouch,
Get blanket and pillow without a grouch,
And make my bed up on the couch,
And make my bed up on the couch.

And now, the published version:

"Stopping By 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 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.

Enjoy, dearies.