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| 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; | |
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| then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same, | |
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| 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. | |
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| 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. | |
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