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
* * *
The painting is one Scott painted and it's called "Evensong". It was the view from a New Hampshire bed and breakfast where we stayed for several days in the fall of 2004. This poem always makes me think of the woods in New Hampshire and I suppose it's because that's where Robert Frost lived and it's a place I've returned to on and off all of my life. If I had to pick a favorite poem, this would be it. I cannot remember a time when I didn't know it.
What poem is like an old friend to you?
