This tonal shift subtly illustrates the idea that the concept of choice is, itself, a kind of artifice. 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; 5 Then took 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, 10 And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black.
The speaker is in two minds.
The act of assigning meanings—more than the inherent significance of events themselves—defines our experience of the past. It's the most comprehensive collection currently on offer. The situation is clear enough - take one path or the other, black or white - go ahead, do it. More than that, he wanted to juxtapose two visions—two possible poems, you might say—at the very beginning of his lyric.
The neatness of how the sentence structure suddenly converges with the line structure this sentence is exactly one line echoes the sudden, clean division that choice creates. The title itself is a small but potent engine that drives us first toward one untaken road and then immediately back to the other, producing a vision in which we appear somehow on both roads, or neither.
This poem does not advise.