by: Robert Frost (1874-1963)
- 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.
*****
The Road Not Taken" is reprinted from Mountain Interval. Robert Frost. New York: Henry Holt, 1921. http://www.poetry-archive.com/f/the_road_not_taken.html
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