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Two roads diverged
in a yellow wood,
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And sorry I could
not travel both
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And be one
traveler, long I stood
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And looked down
one as far as I could
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To where it bent
in the undergrowth;
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Then took the
other, as just as fair,
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And having perhaps
the better claim,
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Because it was
grassy and wanted wear;
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Though as for that
the passing there
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Had worn them
really about the same,
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And both that
morning equally lay
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In leaves no step
had trodden black.
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Oh, I kept the
first for another day!
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Yet knowing how
way leads on to way,
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I doubted if I
should ever come back.
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I shall be telling
this with a sigh
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Somewhere ages and
ages hence:
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Two roads diverged
in a wood, and I—
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I took the one
less traveled by,
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And that has made
all the difference.
By Robert Frost
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