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
