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Analysis and comments on The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

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Comment 393 of 1123, added on April 1st, 2006 at 1:33 PM.

I, Robert Frost, the infamous poet has yet another great masterpiece to
reveal. I dedicate this poem called "The Road Not Taken" to you, my
gretest fans. And now the moment you have all been wating for...

Dos caminos divergieron adentro una madera amarilla,
Y apesadumbrado no podría viajan ambos
Y sea un viajero, deseo estaba parado
Y mirado abajo de uno como lejos pues podría
A donde se dobló adentro la maleza;
Entonces tomó el otro, tan apenas como justo,
Y teniendo quizás mejore la demanda,
Porque era herboso y desgaste deseado;
Sin embargo como para eso el pasar allí
Los había usado realmente casi igual,
Y ambos que mañana igualmente endecha
En hojas ningún paso tenía negro pisado.
Oh, guardé el primer ¡para otro día!
Con todo sabiendo manera plomos encendido a la manera,
Dudé si vuelto siempre.
Diré esto con un suspiro
En alguna parte envejece y edades por lo tanto:
Dos caminos divergieron adentro una madera, e i
Tomé el menos viajado cerca,
Y eso ha hecho todo el diferencia.

and for those who "No Hablo Espanol"


And finally in 形容词

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 for 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.

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Robert Frost from United States
Comment 392 of 1123, added on April 1st, 2006 at 2:59 AM.

The narrator, coming upon a fork in his path, must decide to take one or
the other if he wishes to go further on his way. Three times he declares
of the two paths similarities, as much as he can sense, as the two roads
"as just as fair", were "worn...about the same" and "equally lay".
Perchance he takes one and not the other, a choice based upon his mortal
knowledge, which at its and his best, with the mere spark of a flicker of a
flame to light his way forward along this one, that one, either one,
serendipity's human mustering of the smallest of universal truths he can
possibly muster, if he even does that. Chance, who knows? Not you. Not
me. Not the narrator. The narrator, as human of a being as he is, relates
this tale with a feigned great importance in his later years, looking back
on a life over which he's had laid out before him, choices and chances at
every turn, often rapid like white rushing river water, often as calm as
the tropical seas lap lapping, calming his well worn feet, and then the
feet step yet even more and more and.... Years later, he rests in his
rocking chair, on his front porch, at his tucked away tiny cabin in the
countryside he finally calls home, for it will be his last home, he does
grasp something of that, from which he will make those final few steps,
into the Great Truths of the bright shining brilliance, the Great Light,
the Knowledge that with the humbling bowed knee of acceptance of the All of
the Good, the Great, of God, and he will, at long last, be set free....
But there is that one day, on his rocker, on his front porch, there at the
last home he will know on this earth, in this body of his, the narrator, so
as not to appear to be looking to forlornly, unable, however, to mask his
sigh in his recounting, his remembrance of things of his past, what was it,
and he still doesn't know, but he does have his young grandson perched atop
his knee asking him, "Grandpa, how did you get here? What did you do with
your life? Why?...." And with his own tired crowed eyes of life, glassy
yellow rheumy, thin streaks of his life's blood forking, diverging visibly
on what were formerly white and blue, his life's old eyes, with them he
peers down at his bright eyed youthful teeming anticipatory full of wonder,
and he glimpses yet another tiny truth in the truly white and blue of his
grandson, five years of chance has brought his grandson to him, and he
never really saw the boy's mother, his daughter, he doesn't know much at
all about the boy's father, and he didn't know at all, but for some reason
he hasn't really thought the man could ever measure up to the daughter he
hardly remembers, but he washily whispers as if a whimper, but it is not to
the boy, to the boy it is his grandfather's story of his amazing long life,
going way way way back to ancient history, the boy thinks, some seventy
years gack, forever ago, and the strength, the wisdom, the All he must've
gained, and his eyes, truly white and blue, the narrator thinks, and with a
sigh, he relates this very tale, and for the the boy and the boy's own
brighteyed choicefilled future, "bah, choice...chance...it is all but a
mere toss of the coin...choice....", but that is only what he thinks
silently sighly to himself, and what he tells his young grandson is, well,
he lies through his teeth, "I took the [road] less traveled by, and that
has made all the difference."

[This is the greatest poem by an American author so far in the country's
forward moving history. Compare to Henley's poem for morons,
Invictus..."captain of my fate, master of my soul"...yeah, idiot of your
own choice, by chance, after all, isn't it? Or...what it is is is....]

Mister E from Iraq
Comment 391 of 1123, added on March 31st, 2006 at 1:52 PM.

The Road Not Taken is a beautiful poem. The speaker is sad at the
beginning and happy at the end. The speaker is reflecting upon his life.
We can connect by reflecting how we choose our way in life. The speaker
might have felt trapped at the beginning and not sure where to go. This
poem has emotion.

I think the undergrowth on the path is a symbol of jobs and illness. The
undergrowth stands in the way of his future.

The speaker made the right choice - he went over obsticles because he
wanted to take the right path. He knew it would be hard.

Butner Stem Elementary School from United States
Comment 390 of 1123, added on March 31st, 2006 at 11:13 AM.

I am Robert Frost and (contary to popular belief) I am not a dark poet. The
road not taken is not supposed to symbolize following the crowd or any
other crap. Its meaning is different for each reader. If you see regret
and remorse in my poems it must be reflecting your own lives.

Robert Frost from United States
Comment 389 of 1123, added on March 31st, 2006 at 11:15 AM.

This poem is good because it shows feelings and emotions, a favorite poem
for 2006. We learned that people can make connections with the poem and
the poem talks about choosing a path in life. The speaker followed his
heart - he is reflecting on his life and he is happy with the choice he

Butner Stem Elementary School from United States
Comment 388 of 1123, added on March 28th, 2006 at 9:38 PM.

While Ski makes a very good point, I have to disagree. Frost seems to be
contemplating his choice, and what would come of it had be chosen "The Road
not Taken"; not necessarily regretting the path he ended up following.
Perhaps Frost did not have a real choice in his path. The path may have
been the more difficult path to follow, especially if Frost was dealing
with some personal hurt. This is implied by his description in the first
line of the "yellow wood" and again referred to in the "leaves no step had
trodden black". Yellow is a color long associated with pain, and can also
be indicative of the season. The "yellow wood" described could actually be
a tree of the same name, known for its stunning yellow wood and leaves in
the Autumn. Autumn is also often used in literature as a season of change
and coming of age. The actual color Yellow, according to Etymology, is
associated with sadness. Frost may look back on that time with a little
sadness,(which may be implied by his sigh) but he still mentions that the
road he chose "has made all the difference". I also like the poem very
much, and I would appreciate it if people who have poor grammer ("me and
many others") would not take it upon themselves to criticize those who
can't "type/spell".

Vanessa from United States
Comment 387 of 1123, added on March 26th, 2006 at 5:53 PM.

I was wondering if anyone could think of some books or poems with similar
themes to The Road Not Taken

Comment 386 of 1123, added on March 25th, 2006 at 3:46 PM.

I love this poem! I've loved it since the first time I read it 3 years ago.
It's very insightful and beautiful.

Ava Gilheart from United States
Comment 385 of 1123, added on March 24th, 2006 at 10:19 AM.

It's getting really annoying that some people can't type/spell and they
don't have helpful things to say. If you love this poem, just keep it to
yourself. We are wasting our time by reading that and we are here for a
purpose and most of us look at the comments to get help and insightful
comments on the poem because we are doing it for school. So, me and many
others would appreciate it if some people would stop leaving random
comments. Thanks so much!

Mary from Canada
Comment 384 of 1123, added on March 24th, 2006 at 10:10 AM.

Ski is very right. This poem is not saying you need to take the path less
chosen by people. He is saying that he had to decide whether to take the
road less traveled on, or more. He chose the one less traveled. In the end
he was disappointed. He even says the word sighs in the poem, meaning he
has regret. he didn't see an obvious choice so he picked one and "that made
all the difference." You can infer he was disappointed because he says "I
should be telling this with a sigh." and he says he may try to go down the
other one later. He took a chance and seems to be let down. I'm not sure
it says follow the crowd, but it he apparently made a mistake. So maybe
this poem is saying outright that people make mistakes and it does "make
all the difference." And you will have a choice and it's up to you to
decide which one to take even though it's not always a fairy tale ending

Allie from United States

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Information about The Road Not Taken

Poet: Robert Frost
Poem: 1. The Road Not Taken
Volume: Mountain Interval
Year: 1916
Added: Feb 1 2004
Viewed: 25 times

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