Frost

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 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.


Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.


Provide, Provide

The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag
Was once the beauty Abishag, The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good
For you to doubt the likelihood. Die early and avoid the fate.
Or if predestined to die late,
Make up your mind to die in state. Make the whole stock exchange your own!
If need be occupy a throne,
Where nobody can call you crone. Some have relied on what they knew,
Others on simply being true.
What worked for them might work for you. No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard
Or keeps the end from being hard. Better to go down dignified
With boughten friendship at your side
Than none at all. Provide, provide! –Robert Frost