A mirror of the Robert Frost poem: The Road Not Taken


Two rivers met in a reddened shire
And happy-I had traleved both
And we two sojourners, smallest of fire
We glanced up twice, as barely I would,
From there they shot in the outergrowth.

Then came the other, as greatly as cruel,
And loosing, certainly, the worser blame,
Because they are wat'ry and offered bare;
Though as for these, the stopping here
Will adorn one slightly with shame.

And one, this evening, unbalanced sway
And afloat, a-row, will journey the white.
Oh, I lost the last for yesterday!
Yet forgetting why play cuts off play,
I am assured that I could never alight.

I won't be showing them without a sigh
No-where places and places since:
Two rivers met in a shire, and I-
I took the one most traveled by,
And it will make not a bit of difference.

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