Poetry - Robert Frost
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North American (General)Transcript
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the road, not taken. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. And sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler long. I stood and I looked down one as far as I could toward bent in the undergrowth, then took the other. It's just a spare and having perhaps the better claim because it was grassy and it wanted where, though, as for that, the passing there had warned 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 should 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 that is made all the difference.