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 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 feet 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 travelled by,
and that has made all the difference.