Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Cheering
All right, we're going to try something new
We love poetry, so we wanted to redo this poem
Cassie said we should call ourselves the shred poet
Society when we do this
So, we think that's kind of fun.
But check it out.
Tell us what you think
Here we go
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 query to
Stop without a farmhouse near