A woman I met in Scotland recently posted a poem on Facebook that moved me, and after a brief exchange she asked what my favorite poem was. I immediately recalled it and replied, “it’s by Robert Frost. It’s called The Road Not Taken.”
I was about 10 when I first heard it, I vividly recall being in grade school standing in the hall and how the words stuck with me, or rather, on me. I Googled it to refresh my memory. The words seem prophetic now, and ever so poignant. I share it below with you now.
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.