Alternative ending to Robert Frost’s poem, based on the notion of hypothermia. Stopping by woods, forever.
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,
And so, these promises I keep
I may let lie, while I desire
To forest’s night of snow and sleep.
I’ll make for me a simple fire,
Perhaps, sole comfort I’ll require,
While all the night these shadow call
Me to retire, and to retire,
So cold that man can scarcely crawl:
For sleep’s the easiest of all.
And dreams in snow so sweetly fall,
And dreams in snow so sweetly fall.