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.