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.
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