очень декабрьские стихи

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Robert Frost

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.

Стихи без названия. Сергей Петров

Зима закрыта на замок.
Собаки лают лишь украдкой.
Огонь знобит, он занемог
трепещущею лихорадкой.

Железный вечер встал в упор,
и в окнах много тьмы и страху,
и в мясо дров летит топор
морозной птицею с размаху.

Чем дальше в лес, тем больше дров...
Заборов тёмное сиянье...
И я боюсь: не хватит слов,
скульптурой станет вдруг дыханье.