Robert Frost
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.
