Whose park this is I think I know
Her garden is in the mountain though;
She will not see me stopping here
To watch her flowes fill up with honey.
My little dog must think it queer
To stop without a pond near
Between the trees and bunch of flowers
The sunniest day of the year.
She gives her collar a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy sun shake.
The flowers are lovely, bright, and deep
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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