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.





