The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost(frôst)

Two roads diverged(dəˈvərj) 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(ˈɡrasē) and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn(wôrn) them really about the same,

And both that morning equally(ˈēkwəlē) lay
In leaves(lēv) no step had trodden(ˈträdn) black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted(dout) if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh(sī)
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