Two Poems Converged In A Yellow Wood
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.
My little horse must think it queer.
I looked down one as far as I could,
The darkest evening of the year.
Between the woods and frozen lake,
In leaves no step had trodden black,
He gave his harness bells a shake.
I doubt if I should ever come back.
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
And I had promises to keep,
I took the other, as just as fair.
The woods were lovely, dark and deep.
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