“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—” *
I wandered two roads,
Three or four or five.
Two roads I saw and spring new-sprung and bright
Was waving rainbowed silken sheens on one while ice
In winter’s dark lay shadowed
Sunless hallowed on the next.
Two roads and vexed I wondered where to go.
The summer’s light poured warmth and heat—
I saw it shimmer slightly with the day—
Two roads and fallen leaves and blight
And scents of loss; the mulched decay
Of fall. Two roads and more diverging call to me and I—
I’ve lost my way.
* Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken