A road diverged in a yellow wood,
And be a traveller long I stood,
And looked to where it went in the undergrowth.
From far I viewed the mountain of success,
where truimph and glory lie, eager to be possessed,
The deep gorge of failure, which I dread,
and the big plateau of life, field of chances and traps spread.
It's a one -way street, with many routes to take,
From the staircase of life to the platform of the dead,
All the roads, equally fair, and showing fully of wear and tear,
Yet I can only choose - one to dare.
I shall be telling this, sometime ages and ages since,
A road diverged in a yellow wood - I chose,
And that had made all the diffrence.