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 steps had trodden black.
I saved the first for another day, though knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever get back.

And 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.