Robert Frost. (№ 345722)

In the autumn forest, a fork in the road,
I was thinking, at turn;
The way was two, and the world was wide,
However, I could not bifurcate,
And we had to decide on something.
I chose the road that led to the right
And, turning, disappeared in the thicket.
Nechosina, whether it was
And more, it seemed to me, was overgrown;
But overgrown was both.
And both attracted, pleasing the eye
Dry yellow leaves loose.
I kept the other in reserve
Although guesses in that hour
That is unlikely to come back I had the chance.
I'll remember someday
Far forest this morning:
After all, there was another before me the path
But I decided right roll -
And that solved everything.
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.