The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost (1874-1963) wrote a famliar poem often seen and quoted.  For example, my wife has routinely heard and seen it in the public school system.  In the right context, the poem is inspiring.  Applied to the wrong context, it is frightening.  But since I like it a good deal, I'll reproduce it here.  It's called The Road Not Taken.

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.

(For biographical background, click here.)