Robert Frost

The first poem I ever loved, thanks to my 5th grade English teacher, Barbara Sutton, was "The Road Not Taken." It's a simple, well-known poem (almost cliched) about a wanderer in the wood and the conflict he or she experiences at having to choose a path, thereby forsaking another. It represents the many choices we make in life, and it is also a reminder to us that answers lie in nature if we only look to find them.

Mrs. Sutton forced our class to memorize this poem, which you can imagine caused a lot of grumbling. "What is the point of learning a poem by heart?" we asked. It was frustrating. We forgot the words. But we practiced, and practiced, and ultimately deeply learned them. Mrs. Sutton then made us stand in front of the class and recite the poem, and we bravely complied.

Decades later, this is the poem that I can especially summon to memory. To me it is simplicity, beauty, existential angst and sublime opportunity. It is nature. It is choice. It is possibility. I didn't understand those things as a ten year old, but I appreciated the beauty of the language and the enthusiasm with which Mrs. Sutton taught it to me.

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;         5   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,         10   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.         15   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.         20

More poems by Robert Frost:

Mending Wall by Robert Frost : The Poetry Foundation

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost : The Poetry Foundation

After Apple-Picking

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening