Here’s an interesting article about Robert Frost’s famous poem “The Road Not Taken:”
I memorized this poem in 8th grade, and even back then I caught the wry, self-deprecating tone of the last two lines. My father was given to shoulda-coulda-woulda revisionism, so by an early age I’d absorbed the habit of reflecting upon mighta-beens and mentally editing my life. This was a familiar concept, and it seemed to me that Frost nailed it in a sly, sideways fashion. Also, Frost had a pitch-black sense of humor that appealed to me, and I read his poetry attuned to that vibe.
The story of the British poet, however, adds an interesting new dimension.