When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don�t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven�t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
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.
Oh, I kept the first another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
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.
The lack of purely social one-on-one communication is definitely sparse in my life. The poem reminded me of when I was a child and my mother would encourage visits from family and friends. She always seemed ready and willing to drop everything that she was working on to spend time chatting with anyone who happened by. My sisters, brother and I held opposing views to that of my mother mainly because the TV would be turned off and we were expected to sit in the living room and �enjoy� the visitor�s company as well. However, as I grow older I realize that she wasn�t just opening her doors to friendship but was also reaching out to others who needed to know that they were worthy of her time and kind words. I believe that this poem is a good reminder of how we should all be willing to stop what we are doing and enjoy the company of a friend.
Chosen by: Debra Livingston
This is my favorite Robert Frost poem which too many is way too obvious. I like the independent nature of it and it comforts me at certain points in my life when I am not sure if I making the right decision or a decision not all of my loved ones agreed upon. I find great solace in this poem and read it all the time to lift my spirits. Many of Frosts poems speak to me and I am glad to have his influence in my life.
Chosen by: Heather Krajefska
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Chosen by: Holly Doty
