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.
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,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
But on second thought, maybe the paths were used equally.  This contradicts the initial impulse; on the surface the second path was less followed, but if you looked closely, plenty of people had chosen to follow it. 
 So many people have forged new paths before. 
 
 This contradiction is a purposeful part of Frost’s style wherein he uses ambiguity to leave it to the readers to determine (or maybe NOT clearly determine) the meaning. This sets up the opening of the fourth stanza.
The Road Not Taken