Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
Oh! poor Robert only one he could
He took the one less preferred
Down that beat inevitably he suffered
...
The Road That Did Not Exist
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
Oh! poor Robert only one he could
He took the one less preferred
Down that beat inevitably he suffered
Pricks and pains it'd all be about
Of this fact he had not a doubt
Never lost hope never lost confidence
And that made all the difference
With his destiny he had a tryst
Penned his life, the great sonnetist
Of his poem and life this was the gist
But there was another, that did not exist!
For ages and ages before Robert did pass
A deep and dark jungle it was
A traveller stood there that day
With his bare hands carved a way
And lost in wilderness here I stand
With my dreams the only tools in hand
I shape my way that one day would
Be the third road in the yellow wood