Jazzo's lovely "Poetry" thread prompts me to start two spin-off threads. I do so with some trepidation, unsure whether they will be of interest, but trusting that I will be forgiven if in error.

The other thread I am starting solicits poetry of a lighter vein.

We have provided some of our favorite poems. Shall we discuss at least one of them? For tis purpose I repeat here the lovely poem with which Jazz-o opened his thread. To get the ball rolling, I ask the significant of:

1) the wood being a "yellow" wood
2) the author's sudden shift of his perspective (in the last stanza) from future tense to past tense.
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The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

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!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.