The difference, the life, is created in the telling, something that Frost does, of course, masterfully. When Frost sent the poem to Thomas, Thomas initially failed to realize that the poem was mockingly about him. . To me it lacks substance. When the road failed to yield the hoped-for rarities, Thomas would rue his choice, convinced the other road would have doubtless led to something better.
And it is, in most respects, a normal piece of smartly assembled and quietly manipulative product promotion. We have to choose, and most terrifyingly, the choice may not actually matter. As the tone becomes increasingly dramatic, it also turns playful and whimsical. We are following no one. For example, take the first stanza: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, A And sorry I could not travel both B And be one traveler, long I stood A And looked down one as far as I could A To where it bent in the undergrowth; B The rhythm of the poem is a bit trickier. The more one thinks about it, the more difficult it becomes to be sure who is doing what and why. Let's look at the poem My Notes in Bold and Parentheses below the line they are commenting on : -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, He sees two roads he can take 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; He checks one of them out Then took the other, as just as fair, He takes the other which looks just as good And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; The path he took looked a little more overgrown Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, But to be honest they looked equally overgrown And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black.
The leaves of both turn bright yellow in fall, distinguishing them from maple leaves, which flare red and orange. This is true even of its first line. Her critical interests include the influence of mythology and bardic poetry on contemporary. The poem moves from a fantasy of staving off choice to a statement of division. Stressed syllables are in bold and italic. In this sense, the poem is emblematic. These two potential poems revolve around each other, separating and overlapping like clouds in a way that leaves neither reading perfectly visible.
The self has been split. However, as the poem reveals, that design arises out of constructed narratives, not dramatic actions. What is fallacious in an argument can be mesmerizing in a poem. There is no evidence that Frost ever contemplated doing so, in agony or otherwise. The roads were the same. So this poem has a rhythm and rhyme scheme, but they depart a little from the norm, just like the speaker of this poem, who chooses his own path.
In fact, do the roads even exist at all? What is clear is that the act of choosing creates division and thwarts dreams of simultaneity. You should try and go for Emily Dickenson at some point. And why does Frost think that difference worth preserving? No one has cut a path through the woods. And then it becomes clear the neither road has been travelled much at all. Whichever road he chooses, the speaker, will, presumably, enjoy a walk filled with pleasant fall foliage.
Stanza 4: 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. For these readers, Frost is a mainstay of syllabi and seminars, and a regular subject of scholarly articles though he falls well short of inspiring the interest that Ezra Pound and Wallace Stevens enjoy. Indeed, shortly after receiving this poem in a letter, Edward Thomas's Army regiment was sent to Arras, France, where he was killed two months later. This reading of the poem is subtly different from, and bolder than, the idea that existence is merely subject to the need to make decisions. Oh, I kept the first for another day! The flowery language is all good but it seems a bit shallow to be considered a great piece of art. David Orr is the poetry columnist for the New York Times Book Review. We tell stories and revise our memories as if decisions were made differently than they really were.
The poem consists of four stanzas with five lines each. Oh, I kept the first for another day! He would not be alone in that assessment. After peering down one road as far as he can see, the speaker chooses to take the other one, which he describes 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. Ever since infancy I have had the habit of leaving my blocks carts chairs and such like ordinaries where people would be pretty sure to fall forward over them in the dark. Frost wanted readers to ask the questions Richardson asks. The 'sigh' in the first line of the last stanza always intimated to me a difference that the narrator regretted.
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. Keating, played by Robin Williams, takes his students into a courtyard, instructs them to stroll around, and then observes how their individual gaits quickly subside into conformity. At least one of these was a massive international best seller: M. More than that, he wanted to juxtapose two visions—two possible poems, you might say—at the very beginning of his lyric. Oh, I kept the first for another day! His efforts to maintain a conversational style through his poems—a distinct feature of modern poetry—have been criticized by some.