Two trails 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 sign
Somewhere ages and ages hence;
Two "trails" diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost  *