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.

Robert Frost (1874–1963)

was an American poet known for his vivid portrayals of rural New England life and his exploration of complex themes through simple language. Born in San Francisco, he moved to Massachusetts after his father’s death, a region that would shape much of his poetry. His first published poem, “My Butterfly,” appeared in 1894, but he did not achieve widespread recognition until his 40s. Frost went on to win four Pulitzer Prizes and became one of the most celebrated and influential poets in American literature.