Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour.
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; 5 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, 10 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. Two roads diverged in a wood and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Both ways are equally worn and equally overlaid with un-trodden leaves.
The speaker chooses one, telling himself that he will take the other another day. Yet he knows it is unlikely that he will have the opportunity to do so.
And he admits that someday in the future he will recreate the scene with a slight twist: He will claim that he took the less-traveled road. The rhyme scheme is ABAAB; the rhymes are strict and masculine, with the notable exception of the last line we do not usually stress the -ence of difference. There are four stressed syllables per line, varying on an iambic tetrameter base.
Commentary This has got to be among the best-known, most-often-misunderstood poems on the planet. Several generations of careless readers have turned it into a piece of Hallmark happy-graduation-son, seize-the-future puffery.
But you yourself can resurrect it from zombie-hood by reading it—not with imagination, even, but simply with accuracy. Neither of the roads is less traveled by. These are the facts; we cannot justifiably ignore the reverberations they send through the easy aphorisms of the last two stanzas.
One of the attractions of the poem is its archetypal dilemma, one that we instantly recognize because each of us encounters it innumerable times, both literally and figuratively. Paths in the woods and forks in roads are ancient and deep-seated metaphors for the lifeline, its crises and decisions.
Identical forks, in particular, symbolize for us the nexus of free will and fate: We are free to choose, but we do not really know beforehand what we are choosing between. Our route is, thus, determined by an accretion of choice and chance, and it is impossible to separate the two. This poem does not advise.
Next, the poem seems more concerned with the question of how the concrete present yellow woods, grassy roads covered in fallen leaves will look from a future vantage point.Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost About this Poet Poet Robert Frost was born in San Francisco, but his family moved to Lawrence, Massachusetts, in following his father’s death.
Nature; Fall; Landscapes & Pastorals;. quotes from Robert Frost: 'In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.', 'The Road Not Taken 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 .
|From the SparkNotes Blog||Being a poet, he likens the causes to the imperfections in human nature, and not just plain physics.|
The Road Not Taken by Robert timberdesignmag.com 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.
Page/5(). By Frost was fighting against discouragement. Poetry had always been considered a young person’s game, but Frost, who was nearly 40 years old, had not published a single book of poems and had seen just a handful appear in magazines. Robert Frost - Poet - One of the most celebrated poets in America, Robert Frost was an author of searching and often dark meditations on universal themes and a quintessentially modern poet in his adherence to language as it is actually spoken, in the psychological complexity of his portraits, and in the degree to which his work is infused with layers of ambiguity and irony.
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; 5.