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Vanity

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Robert Frost (1874-1963)

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is in the village thought;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little house 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.




Sometimes, we are scared of the loneliness
Sometimes, we get used to it
Sometimes, we hate it
Sometimes, we cannot deny that we really like it

The way to get rid of the vanity:
We have to prove that we are meaningful to some people and this society


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