标签:文学欣赏
分类:评论
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 farm-house 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 ... (原文地址:http://xiaonei.chinaren.com/blog/huangxiaoabc/15482603)
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