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.
This is an excerpt from Reading About the
World , edited by Paul Brians, Mary Gallwey, Douglas Hughes,
Michael Myers, Michael Neville, Roger Schlesinger, Alice Spitzer, and
Susan Swan and published by American Heritage Custom Books.