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 too 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

Age seizes my skin
And turns my hair
From black to white:
My legs no longer carry me
Lightly, nimbly
Dancing like young fawns.
What can I do?
I am not eternal
Though my songs may be.
Can pink-armed Dawn,
Who could not save her love
Erase these harbingers of age?
My youth is gone.
Still I adore
The Sun.

~From Sappho's Leap by Erica Jong