Lyric-Scroll 002 : The Road Not Taken: When Frost Made Indecision Sound Like Philosophy

Robert Frost: The Quiet Flirt with Regret

Robert Frost: the poet who made nature broody and roads metaphorical before Instagram filters could. He wore simplicity like a flannel shirt but stitched complexity into every hem. Born in 1874, American but with a Victorian heart, he had this uncanny ability to take a walk in the woods and come back with existential dread disguised as rustic charm.

While others wrote about gods and wars, Frost wrote about fences, snow, trees—and somehow managed to make them about life, death, choice, guilt, and your unresolved daddy issues. He was the literary uncle who smiled warmly while handing you an emotional crisis wrapped in rhyme.

The Poem: Two Roads, One Poet, and a Lifetime of Wondering

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both…

Translation: Frost enters the forest and instantly becomes the patron saint of commitment issues.

You know that moment in a mall food court when you stand frozen between dosa and dim sum? Multiply that by eternity. That’s the vibe.

And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

He peers down one path with the intensity of someone trying to read their horoscope between lines. Spoiler: both roads were equally basic. But Frost’s genius is in making indecision feel heroic.

Now Comes the Sarcastic Truth Bomb

Then took the other, as just as fair…

Ah, the classic human delusion: that the path we chose was somehow nobler, edgier, cooler. When in reality, it was just the one with slightly better lighting.

Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same…

So, both were equally trodden. Yet we still believe we were rebels for choosing the “other.” This poem is not about courage—it’s about narrative editing. It’s your friend who orders paneer at every restaurant and still says, “I’m adventurous.”

The “Sigh” Heard Around the Literary World

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Frost literally predicts how we’ll dramatize our decisions. That sigh is the sound of selective memory—of convincing yourself the time you left your stable job to paint rocks was fate and not caffeine-induced whimsy.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Let’s face it—this last stanza is the anthem of every startup founder, every motivational speaker, and every person trying to justify their questionable life choices. But Frost isn’t congratulating himself. He’s smirking. The difference? Probably not as dramatic as we claim. But it makes for excellent dinner conversation and LinkedIn bios.

ABS Commentary & Quotable Misdirection

Poem says: “I took the one less traveled by…”
ABS replies: “And then wrote a poem so everyone else could trample it into cliché.”

Poem sighs: “I shall be telling this…”
ABS notes: “With a hint of regret, a touch of pride, and the full flair of poetic revisionism.”

Poem reflects: “Had worn them really about the same…”
ABS snarks: “Ah, the great poetic twist—when life’s roads are identical, but your caption needs drama.”

Why This Poem Refuses to Go Away

• Because we’re all haunted by what-ifs.

• Because it lets us rebrand ordinary choices as soul-defining.

• Because it gives English teachers a metaphor that doesn’t require a content warning.

And above all—because Frost knew our hearts better than we do. He understood the power of post-event storytelling. Of pretending that we were bold, when really, we were bored and the other road had fewer spiders.

ABS folds the scroll, stepping aside as the yellow wood closes in once again—quiet, judgmental, and perpetually misunderstood.