Monday, February 22, 2010

The Road Not Taken

Last night at bedtime, my two year old son pulled out a poetry book.  He was in the mood to listen, having slowed down considerably from his frenetic pace of the day.  He sat quietly and intently as I read poems by the dozen, lingering on my favorites. I feel lucky that I can share my love of words with this little boy, and that he seems to appreciate these moments as much as I do.

Before I tucked him in for the night, I shared with him my favorite poem.

The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

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 kept 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.


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