Violet B.

Stopping for Zucchinis: A Parody for Frost

Whose woods these are I do not care;

(His house is near our camp I know.)

He will not see me stopping here

to fill up his woods with zucchinis.

My little horse must think it smart

to plant without a farmhouse near.

Between the woods and half-thawed lake,

the brightest evening of the year.

He gives his harness-bells a shake.

He knows that there’s been no mistake.

The only other sound’s that sweep

of hard wind and no flake.

The forest is lovely, dark, and damp,

but I have seeds to plant

and miles to go before I sleep

and miles to go before I sleep.