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 marked 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.
Friday, April 20, 2012
This is a poem that everybody has read in high school. And, while I've been trying this month to post some lesser known poems, I couldn't let National Poetry Month go by without posting this classic by Robert Frost. It's easy to take the well-worn path; the path that plenty of others have traveled before. It's definitely harder to forge new paths, but I think that's what I've done (or at least tried to do) in my life. This poem has always been an inspiration -- to reach out, to try, to be willing to experience something different and potentially fail. I've loved this poem since I first read it as a child.