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; | |
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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, | |
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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. | |
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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. | |
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