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 (5 years and 3073 days ago)
The place is a pub by the sea, frequented mostly by Brits, though it was the poem itself which, for various personal reasons, struck a chord when I read it some time ago, so I was hellbent in coming up with an image befitting it. The spot light of-course is a bummer, but there was no way of removing it.
Wonderful poem, I remember this one...haven't thought about it or the meaning for a very long time, Thank you Author...well done
Howdie stranger!
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