Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I
stood
And looked down one as far as I
could
To where it bent in the
undergrowth;
Then took the other, 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 travelled by,
And
that has made all the difference.