I cam up with a reference to a poem by Robert Frost. As a New Englander of the 1970's Frost was, for me inescapable. I have heard this poem over and over until I could not think of it. Does that make sense? The words he assembled lost their meaning. They became noise.
Some of his poems are very good. I like 'Acquainted with the Night' 'Death of the Hired Man' is awesome.
Still-- Archie keeps his promises. Here is the poem. (Just in case you don't have it by heart yourself.)
if you live far from me, and are coming to it new, or almost new, or kinda-sorta only half know it, I am curious to know what you think. Do you see it? Do you like it?
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.