The Path Taken
Frost stood on the road he’d taken
Hoping he was not mistaken:
Had he chosen better, say,
Than walking on that other way?
For all the hardship he had known
Along the path yet overgrown
Had clouded Frost with fleeting thought
Of what that other might have brought?
But I don’t think I want to know
Do I?
Where such other path may go
Could I?
For nothing of my heart would find
That yellow wood I left behind
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