Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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 litle horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening o the year

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only oyher