Plane, how about this?
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.
Frost is great , Burns is also great.
Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, an' a' that
The coward slave, we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp
The man's the gowd(gold) for a' that
What though on hamely(homely) fare we dine
Wear hoddin grey(course wollen cloth), an' a' that
Gie(give) fools their silks, and knaves their wine
A man's a man, for a' that.....
"While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of empires and the fall of kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention."
- Robert Burns
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gjr5boTgis4http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOBcFt5tevY&NR=1