the road not taken
by robert frost

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.

about this poem:

while discussing this poem with an online friend, she said she found it sad & dark. she said she saw it as foreboding of being unable to turn back once you've made a decision. that interpretation really blew me away, because i'd always interpreted it as a beacon for forging your own destiny, moving to the beat of a different drummer, and being an adventurer rather than a follower. that's poetry for you.