The 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 chaim,
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 onto 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 [1916]
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