Because he's standing, we know that he's on foot, and not in a carriage or a car. However, as the poem reveals, that design arises out of constructed narratives, not dramatic actions. Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. In fact, he predicts that his future self will betray this moment of decision as if the betrayal were inevitable. 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.
Immediately, he realizes that as a traveller travelling both the roads is impossible. Perhaps, he goes in the flashback. The determinism of a choice, way leading on to way, in a string of events that becomes a life is unescapable. As they were leaving, the gamekeeper grabbed his shotgun and chose his first target as Thomas. It is a poem about the necessity of choosing that somehow, like its author, never makes a choice itself—that instead repeatedly returns us to the same enigmatic, leaf-shadowed crossroads. According to Frost, the poem was about his very close friend Edward Thomas, a fellow writer and eventual poet in his last years who Frost got to know very well during his time in England in the early 20th century. Several generations of careless readers have turned it into a piece of Hallmark happy-graduation-son, seize-the-future puffery.
This happens in a yellow wood, ie, it is autmn when the green leaves turn yellow. More than that, he wanted to juxtapose two visions—two possible poems, you might say—at the very beginning of his lyric. 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. These experiences then leave marks in the choices that we have, these marks then form our bias towards or against that path. Would he flee for safer shores, or stand and defend his country? And then, the existential rug is pulled out from under your comfortably situated feet with the revelation that you have to make your own road — and it may not be of your choosing. To where it bent in the undergrowth; He stands at the fork for a long time and examines one of the roads as far as he can.
Most likely, it was a short piece called The Road Not Taken- a poem famous for being one of the most misunderstood and misinterpreted poems ever written, and a testament to how twisted the meaning of something can be by taking a quote out of context. So his stating that in the future he will say he took the path less traveled, is the narrator admitting that he will lie about the moment in the future. A young man hiking through a forest is abruptly confronted with a fork in the path. The speaker reflects on how he plans to take the road that he didn't take another day, but suspects that he probably won't ever come back. Perhaps, he chose the less travelled one.
After making his decision, he exclaims that he will leave the first choice for another day, and then he honestly tells himself that if he lets this road go now, there is no coming back. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- 19. In this it strongly resembles its creator. The syntax of the first also mirrors this desire for simultaneity: three of the five lines begin with the word and. We can be one linguistic traveler traveling two roads at once, experiencing two meanings.
I stuck to my guns, took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference. In choosing safety, however, he knew full well that he would claim he took the risky road and won. First, a road, unlike a path, is necessarily man-made. 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; Though 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. See: Indeed, he was noted as being an anti-nationalist who despised the propaganda and blatant racism against Germans being thrown about in the British media at the time. But is there any actual evidence to support one interpretation over the other, at least as far as Frost was intending when he wrote it if he had any real intent at all? The setup: 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; From this, you might actually think one was less trodden, except for the next line when the traveler explains he was really just casting about trying to find some reason to take one road or the other in the previous lines and that in truth the roads seemed equally traveled: Though 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.
Frost perhaps succeeded too well in his pose of the apparently artless rube sitting on that wall. The speaker chooses one, telling himself that he will take the other another day. As the tone becomes increasingly dramatic, it also turns playful and whimsical. Maria Magher has been working as a professional writer since 2001. The narrator only distinguishes the paths from one another after he has already selected one and traveled many years through life. The woods are yellow, which means that it probably falls and the leaves are turning yellow. Happy 140th birthday, Robert Frost — you're totally misunderstood.
One goes one way, the other goes a different way. We as people go through many circumstances and experiences in our lives, and one of them is choosing between two or more paths. The act of assigning meanings—more than the inherent significance of events themselves—defines our experience of the past. Paths in the woods and forks in roads are ancient and deep-seated metaphors for the lifeline, its crises and decisions. Essentially, Frost felt Thomas wanted a do-over and was making another attempt at testing his mettle, this time in France.
With this poem, Frost has given the world a piece of writing that every individual can relate to, especially when it comes to the concept of choices and opportunities in life. Poets, we assume, are not popular—at least after 1910 or so. Frost wanted readers to ask the questions Richardson asks. The yellow leaves suggest that the poem is set in autumn, perhaps in a section of woods filled mostly with alder or birch trees. This concerned a matter of what he perceived to be cowardice on his part, though most of us might consider that he was being the only reasonable one in the ordeal. This poem was first published in 1916, when cars were only just beginning to become prominent, so these roads in the wood are probably more like paths, not roads like we'd think of them today. His father died of consumption See: when Frost was 11, leaving the family destitute.