Two roads
diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I
could not travel both
And be one
traveler, long I stood
And looked down
one as far as I could
To where it bent
in the undergrowth;
Then took the
other, as just as fair,
And having
perhaps the better claim
Because it was
grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for
that the passing there
Had worn them
really about the same,
And both that
morning equally lay
In leaves no
step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the
first for another day!
Yet knowing how
way leads on to way
I doubted if I
should ever come back.
I shall be
telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages
and ages hence:
Two roads
diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one
less traveled by,
And that has
made all the difference.
Robert Frost, The Road not taken
