The road has diverged in a crimson wood
And I don’t know which way to choose
Neither one points where I think I should go;
Lost, I stand in the dusk, confused.

The glittering sun is my only gold;
The North Star, my guide and lead.
Not all those who wander are lost, I hear,
Yet many who ramble aren’t free.

But I haven’t the time to ruminate
On what is or what ought to be.
The only real choice is before me:
I will stomp a new path through the trees!