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.
