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.
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
What seems like a lifetime ago, in freshman honor's English, I was fortunate to have a wonderful English professor, Marge Boal. Her love of the written word inspired me, and I spent many non-classroom hours talking to her about life, love and language. She encouraged and challenged me, and our friendship grew. In my youth, I couldn't help but notice the wrinkles, yet I admired her zest for life. Sitting in her office, surrounded by endless stacks of books, I remember the day she shared with me her illness. She would die within two years.
I have carried her love of language with me for many years, and The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost was one of her favorite poems. I think it depends on where you are in life as to the interpretation of the words, but consistently remains a poem about the freedom to choose, and reminds us we do not know what we are choosing. It is not about the right path, just the one we choose, and as Robert Frost, so elequently titles the poem, it is really about the path we do not take. Definitely, a twisted "carpe diem."
