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He Passed by my Woods on a Snowy EveningWho passed my woods I think I know,
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the prints his horse left still may show
betwixt the lake and powdered grove,
tomorrow softened each with snow.
This man, I know, he does not rove,
he must have come by near the cove;
I heard the harness bells so clear
when seated, reading, by the stove,
and wished I more of chimes to hear
this darkest evening of the year
through winter woods so soft and prim,
now bathed in twilight's snowy sheer.
And long the trees have yet to slim,
content with snow my friend may brim;
it shall be years 'till I see him,
it shall be years 'till I see him.