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 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. 

    Robert Frost (1874–1963)     

Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 

I doubted if I should ever come back. 

I doubted 
I doubted if I should
ever 
come back

I doubted if I should ever come back
ever come back
come back
come back
come back

come...
back
b-a-c-k

should I?

De cómo echamos en falta aquello que no tenemos, incluso habiéndolo rechazado en algún momento