The Road Less Traveled

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—