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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; |
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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, |
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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. |
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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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martedì 13 dicembre 2011
The Road Not Taken (ROBERT FROST)
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