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Two roads diverged near a darkened wood
And sorry we had to travel one
And fearful of both, long we stood
And looked down each as far as we could
To where it vanished from light of sun;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the safer claim,
Because it was marshy and wanted wear;
Though the smell of death lingering there
Made our stomachs uneasy just the same.
And both that morning equally lay
Leading to Mount Doom's shroud of black.
Oh, we kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing what fate should like to say,
We doubted if we would ever come back.
You shall be reading this with a sigh,
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged near a darkened wood, and we,
We took the one more damp and marshy
And that has made all the difference.