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.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
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1 comment:
This is a lovely poem by Robert Frost written during WWI, 1916. Simple yet elegant. This reminds me of my school days in SJC, Sambalpur. Our literature teacher, Mrs. Bali, used to utter it so gracefully, one can never forget it. Highway Man being one of my other favorites.
Different school of thought portray the poem in different light. "The road not taken" could mean the road the author did not take or the road not taken by many.
An excellent choice to post.
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