Random reading ...

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.

Robert Frost.

The road not taken

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 troden black;

Oh, I kept the first for another day !

Yet knowing how way leads onto 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.

-- Robert Frost (1916)

Thanks Elley for sharing...

Ankha, thanks for the editorial comments ... that makes a difference ...