Reviewing Code on a Busy Evening

Reviewing Code on a Busy Evening

If Robert Frost and his horse were wandering through a codebase, rather than stopping by woods on that snowy evening...

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"Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening"

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.

Written By: Robert Frost, circa 1922

"Reviewing Code On A Busy Evening"

Whose code this is is, I think I know

They wrote it for the CTO,

The specs were penned in haste, with beer,

The sinful, shameful status quo.

 

And yet I see the thought cohere,

The functions clean, refined, austere,

Each error catch, each thoughtful break,

Intention crisp, the comments, clear

 

The night is late, I’m still awake,

My job, averting each mistake, 

I’m working while my colleagues sleep,

Reviewing code obscure, opaque,

 

But this is brilliant, this we’ll keep,

No races run, no scoping creep,

And for one night, I soundly sleep

And for one night, I soundly sleep

Written By: Evan Coopersmith & AE Studio

"Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening"

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.

Written By: Robert Frost, circa 1922