Taken - Not the Road

A yellow wood, in two roads, diverged -

sorry - 

I could not travel, be one traveler,

looked as far as I could, long I stood - 

and 

down one, both,

where bent in the undergrowth

to it, the other, just as fair,

took as having about the same wear,

and - passing there

(perhaps the better claim)

because it was grassy

and worn -

and wanted -

Though as for that

the morning lay trodden black

for another day - 

had them really, and that both equally,

I doubted, knowing no step - 

should I ever come back?

Oh, I kept the first

in leaves.

Then if I be telling this,

how the way leads in a wood,

traveled by 

with a sigh

ages and ages hence

and had - 

shall - 

yet somewhere

all the difference

diverged

and I

took one less,

and that has made 

two roads

on I 

to way.

(All words clept from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken")