Now as we all know, (Or at least, as we should), There is one master of forks. Robert Frost, 1874 to 1963, Poet. Writer of places, faces, and traces,
Memories and stories carved hard into the subconscious. Philosophies and societies, American Writer. 1916, Mountain Interval, 'The Road Not Taken'. Retroactive, choice, and a grand joke,
Morphed and analysed by students. But really; - Each path of that woodland fork, Both the first stanza and second, Would have made for a lovely walk.