We’ve all read this poem time and time again. It is, perhaps, one of the best known poems in all of American history. But sometimes we can forget how important it is. Whenever I get to feeling I’m not much like the guy next door and wonder what’s wrong with me, I read this over and remember: there’s nothing really amiss. I’m just on that road not taken much.
The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost
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.
[Listen to audio clip of today’s poetry selection from Poets.org]