Robert Frost

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 even 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.