Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The real Robert Frost

Robert Frost. 1875–1963
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 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,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Anonymous said...


Long since dead. I doubt he ever made it back to that first road

Gavin Elster said...

Thanks Scot.

I'll amend the post

Luke said...


This ottoman is in my way.
I tripped on it again today;
It chills me with a nameless fear
To think it sees me as its prey.

My loving wife must think it queer
That I am always falling here
As I am walking past the chair.
How comical I must appear.

When I remember to beware
The wicked footrest lurking there,
I do not stumble in a sprawl,
And yet such instances are rare.

My house is cozy, warm, and small,
With just one thing that wrecks it all:
The ottoman that makes me fall,
The ottoman that makes me fall.

from Holy Tango.

Gavin Elster said...

That link is brilliant. Thanks luke.