When the clouds turned gray
When the heart overwhelmed with grayest grim
When it was no one's fault
While the deep cuts altered your senses
Can you remain still?
Can you let the rain fall on your face?

Do you have it?
The stillness it takes
For the mud to settle
Till it's clear

Can you remain still?
Can you remain still?
Can you empty yourself for the right thing to unfold itself?

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.