The Road Not Taken

By: Robert Frost (1874–1963)

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.