But only once-–
For in the morning he had to decide
Whether, having crossed the river
And said goodbye to the moon,
When no more dogs were barking,
Nor hut smoke could be seen,
Nor any voices heard,
Whether to take the left
Or right arm of the road.
It was best not to stop,
Not think of warmth
But lunge without thought to left or right.
Either that or broach the center-–
A wilderness of granite green
In which one lived as long
And learned far more
Than after the exhaustion of a quick decision
Or the utter ruin of a right one.
