It ain't the trees that block the trail,
It ain't the ash or pine;
For, if you fall or if you fail,
It was some pesky vine
That tripped you up, that threw you down,
That caught you unawares:
The big things you can walk aroun' —
But watch the way for snares.

In life it ain't the biggest things
That make the hardest load;
It ain't the burden big that brings
Defeat upon the road,
Some fault you hardly knew you had
May hurt more than you think —
Some little habit that is bad
May put you on the blink.

You have made holy ground of this wild land amid the hemlock trees,
On ev'ry flower have left your kiss, have left your voice on ev'ry breeze.
You came for but a little while; you went — forever it may be;
But now the sunshine is your smile, the stars your tenderness to me.

You have made holy ground of all the paths we walked, the ways we knew,
And pure as Heaven's jasper wall the hills that once encompassed you.
You have shut sin from out this place, there is no evil word nor thought —
By your divinity of face have here a holy wonder wrought.

There are some thoughts too sad to put in words,
There are some joys too deep for accents gay.
I think that that is why God makes the birds
Such things to say.

There are some moments full of melodies
Too sweet for harps or any human thing.
I think that that is why God makes the trees
Such songs to sing.

There are some souls that down life's highway pass
Too fair to last in hope's bright diadem.
I think that that is why God makes the grass
To shelter them.

There are some hours too lonely for the light,

Beneath the waters of the sea
Are lobsters thick as thick can be —
They love to dance with you and me,
My own, my gentle Salmon!

C HORUS

Salmon, come up! Salmon, go down!
Salmon, come twist your tail around!
Of all the fishes of the sea
There's none so good as Salmon!

Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I could n't doubt it,
How she danced—my Grandma danced!—
Long ago.
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
Turning out her little toes;
How she slowly leaned and rose—
Long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny;
Dimpled cheeks, too—ah, how funny!
Really quite a pretty girl,
Long ago.
Bless her! why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does, and takes a nap
Every single day; and yet
Grandma danced the minuet
Long ago.

Old man with the hour-glass, halt! halt! I pray —
Don't you see you are taking my children away?
My own little babies who came long ago,
You stole them, old man with the beard white as snow!

My beautiful babies, so bonny and bright!
Where have you carried them, far out of sight?
Oh, dimpled their cheeks were, and sunny their hair!
But I cannot find them; I 've searched everywhere.

My three-year-old toddlers, they shouted in glee;
They sported about me; they sat on my knee.
Oh, their prattle and laughter were silvery rain!

They sit on their silken cushions and say what a terrible thing
To be the wife of a woodsman, the queen of a jungle king —
To dwell in an humble dwelling, to live on a shanty floor,
With nothing but house and husband, and a red rose by the door.
But I, I am sick of longing, and I, I am dying here
For a strong man's home in a clearing and the love of a pioneer.

They prattle of fads and fashions, of dinners and balls and nights,
These powdered and pretty fungi, these gossiping parasites;
And men who are working wonders and men who are doing deeds

We lived beneath the mat,
Warm and snug and fat,
But one woe, and that
Was the cat!
To our joys a clog, In our eyes a fog, On our hearts a log
Was the dog!
When the cat's away,
Then the mice will play.
But, alas! one day (So they say)
Came the dog and cat, Hunting for a rat,
Crushed the mice all flat,
Each one as he sat
Underneath the mat,
Warm, and snug, and fat—
Think of that!

The sawin' of lumber,
The fallin' of norway,
The old occupation
Of drivin' the pine,
Has brought any number
Of men to our doorway —
Brought every nation
A-crossin' the brine.
But, of every faction,
From swampers to sorters,
Who run on the rivers
Or work in the mill,
The quickest in action
In murmurin' waters,
The cattiest drivers,
Are Irishers still!

Folks talk of Quebeckers
From Saguenay fountains,
They talk of world-beaters
From valleys of spruce,
They talk of the crackers

The time that Peary found the Pole
I saw the strangest thing;
My blanket 'round me in a roll,
I camped beside a spring.
'Twas when outdoors you like to lay
These early Summer nights —
An' in the north, so far away,
I saw the Northern Lights.

I saw the blue sky overhead,
An' then, in flashin' bars,
I saw the stripes of white an' red,
An', over them, the stars.
I saw the red an' white an' blue
Up there at Peary's goal —
I saw the Stars an' Stripes, an' knew
That he had found the Pole!