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