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Reflections of a working writer and reader



A Poem by Robert Frost

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

Robert Frost (1874–1963).

3 Responses to “A Poem by Robert Frost”

  1. Rachel Fox says:

    It’s popular for a reason!
    Happy December, John.

    jb says: Good to hear from you, Rachel. We’re thinking of coming up to Scotland for Hogmanay, or perhaps just get plastered and make believe . . .

  2. James Bent says:

    I love this poem – right from when I was at University and first heard it. In fact, I remember that me and a friend were going up to London to watch Spearhead and we met out English teacher from Uni. For some reason he recited this poem, then disappeared. Freaky.

    Then, a few years later when I was tramping around Banff, Canada, I remember walking along a track and coming to a forked path and thought of this again.

    I love the last paragraph/stanza:

    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.

    jb says: Hi James. Good to see you here. Great that you liked the poem, but, hey, what’s not to like? Thanks for the anecdotes about it.

  3. Anonymous says:

    wtf does it mean

    jb says: Not necessarily just one thing unencumbered by the rest, chico. But somewhere in there there’s a guy reflecting on tf of his life, the way he saw or thought he saw choices before him and took or thought he took one in preference to the others. But one man’s meaning is another man’s dilema, doncha know.