TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, Then took the other, as just as fair, And both that morning equally lay I shall be telling this with a sigh
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; 5
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,
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.
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.
Tacky things, bad taste, expensive decorations,” he said. “But what is it we are celebrating? Taoism, Confucianism, communism, capitalism — Hanoi has everything, but it adds up to nothing.” As an urban landscape, though, Hanoi seems mostly to be succeeding, where other Asian cities have failed, in integrating development with preservation.
