“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost (1874-1963)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,(a)
And sorry I could not travel both (b)
And be one traveler, long I stood (a)
And looked down one as far as I could (a)
To where it bent in the undergrowth; (b)
Then took the other, as just as fair, (a)
And having perhaps the better claim, (b)
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; (a)
Though as for that the passing there (a)
Had worn them really about the same, (b)
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.