At the threshold, all before,
I looked as through an open door.
In the yard a wardrobe stood,
Beyond the yard a yellow wood,
Beyond the wood a rising hill,
Moving waters and a mill.
On high a rain unfurled its bow
Where cyclones and a beanstalk grow,
A castle overgrown with thorns,
Distant echoes, hunting horns,
A bird of paradise, a swan,
A snowy owl upon the lawn,
A ring, a rose, a rabbit hole,
A sword, a stone, a grassy knoll.
A laurel wreath lay in the grass,
A garter and a looking glass,
A whale swam up; I watched him nod
Then disappear beneath the sod.
Two roads diverged in the wood, and I...
I knew the one less traveled by,
But mindful I had much to lose,
Reluctantly chose not to choose.
The hero-souls have gone before;
The dragon path, the golden shore
Await us all. The ways are known.
But every soul must find its own.