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The Road Most Taken (after Robert Frost)

Andrew Randall

As ‘two roads diverged in a yellow wood’,

I trifled with the wisdom of generations.

The morning sun played with my senses

as the intoxication that is spring cast its spell,

All the while the pied piper’s tune filled my ears.


Two roads ‘both that morning equally lay’,

except that one appeared to be less arduous

in its terrain, and likewise the more used.

But as I quickly surveyed the circuitous paths

any of its revelations were outside my fledgling view.


And I, not yet knowing ‘how way leads on to way’,

nor able to detach from myself from the limits

overlaid by inexperience, was forced

that day to decide on the courses before me set -

And for the rest of my days

unravel the meaning of that choice.

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