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 onto 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.