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
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