“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,”
Frost’s buggy driver said to his horse.
“Not if you have early to rise and drive
come morning,” his mare replied.
But at sunup all promises were freed,
schools closed and happy kids slid
down ripe soft hills on toboggans
made of birch poles and risks.
And from slick freeways of iciness
commuters stuck eyed the homes
warmly hidden in the village hills
and the road winds were not easy.
Horse sense got lost when Ford
put Frost and mare out of business,
who now stop by wood windows
within to view the snow without.
The Coming of the Toads 