The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

One of my favorite poems by Robert Frost is "The Road Not Taken."

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;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Through as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

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.

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.

I'm not exactly sure what got me to thinking about this particular poem. Maybe because of its mixture of adventure and sentimentality and how they both color our decision-making. It's an oversimplification to say that youth is drawn to newness while older adults seem to drift towards the familiar. Is a taste for adventure confined to the youngest generation? Do you have to wait until you're older to appreciate the past?

In his poem, Frost wisely doesn't give any clues as to the age of the observer. And although it seems as if "the less traveled" road wins out, it's important to note that the observer appreciates the fact that, years later, when he tells the story, it will be with the perspective of a deep appreciation of that fateful day in the woods.