Stopping By Two Roads Diverging

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood” —

But wait! That one’s been done before

And done right well, by one who could

Look back and say so, seeing more

Than I, who now stands at the fork.

Where one path leads I think I know

It’s laid out fairly straight, and though

I am no prophet, leads us it seems

To city, and home — quite possibly.

This other path leads quite away

From all we’ve thought about thus far.

It bends and twists as if at play:

Perhaps leads only to one more scar —

Or maybe to unknown new star!

So here we stand at this divergence

Not knowing how it makes a difference

But move we must. Onward we leap

With miles to go before we sleep.

(With grateful thanks to the mastery of Robt. Frost)