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