Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”: Graduation, Privilege, and Our Meta-Narratives

Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”: Graduation, Privilege, and Our Meta-Narratives June 1, 2015

3222356604_250862afebMost likely, everything you know about Robert Frost’s most famous poem, “The Road Not Taken,” is wrong.

Most of us know only the last three lines of the poem:

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

You can read the whole poem here.

Most people think of this poem as inspirational schmaltz—a brave, inspired anthem of individuality and willingness to go against the crowd. Perhaps even a celebration of the American Dream! Except, that isn’t what the poem is getting at at all.

The Daunting Challenge of Decision-Making

As the poem opens, the narrator describes a “fork in the road” that he came to in the woods one day, early in his life. He stood at this fork, looking down two separate pathways. He knew he had to make a decision. He could not clone himself or appear simultaneously in two places at the same time. He had to choose one or the other. This is a common dilemma that young people, in particular, face. Many fear commitment to a career path or to a marriage partner. It is daunting to consider “I could not travel both / And be one traveler,” as Frost writes. Saying “yes” to anything (even to choices such as open marriage or itinerant living) categorically means saying “no” to other options. While there is always the chance for course correction later in life, there is no going back to this time, this one choice.

The struggle to make a decision is particularly poignant this time of the year, as young people graduate from high school and college. Suddenly, their parents no longer direct the course of their lives. They face a crossroads and must own decisions for themselves. They can put off the decision, but that indecision itself is a decision that will take them down a certain path and away from another path.

The Insidious Nature of Personal Mythologies

The narrator of the poem goes on to describe his long indecision, considering which of two paths to take. The first path is untrodden, covered by undergrowth (at least at first sight). The second path is easier to a certain extent (at least at first sight): it is grassy and perhaps an easier walk. But then again, the narrator corrects himself. This is the key point: He describes the second path as “just as fair” as the first and acknowledges that “the passing there / Had worn them really about the same.” He also adds, “both that morning equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black.” The paths are very, very similarly worn and traveled. Although the ending we all know seems to suggest that one path was better than the other, the truth is that they really were quite equivalent in many ways.

You see, the narrator can’t help himself; even as he tries to honestly recount his biographical choices, he still has a tendency to overlay them with personal mythology.

He goes on to describe the way he rationalized his decision. He would take the second path, but he could always come back and take the first later! (And yet, he sadly acknowledges that it was highly unlikely that he would ever return.)

Now comes the final and most important stanza.


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