Alaska trails are myriad trails,
The "Sour-dough" treads them all—
The Long Trails and the Short Trails,
Wherever he heeds the Call.
Some of the Trails are Smooth Trails,
Broad and level and straight,
Perfect as Man can make them,
Aided by God and Fate.
Some of the Trails are Sad Trails,
Paved with Sorrow and Fear,
Filled with the ghosts of blasted hopes,
And sprinkled with many a tear.
Some of the Trails are Gay Trails,
Filled with laughter and song,
Paved with the smiles of the happy,
And the joy of the care free throng.
Some of the Trails are Long Trails,
Crossing the desert of Life,
Filled with the bleached and scattered bones,
Of those who have died in the strife.
Some of the Trails are Short Trails,
Shaded by wonderful trees,
Where man may rest himself betimes
And spend glad hours at ease.
Some of the Trails are Evil Trails,
Ending where they begin,
Paved with blocks of Hypocrisy,
Shaded by trees of Sin.
Some of the Trails are Good Trails,
Built by a Master Hand,
Winding away for miles and miles
Till they reach the Promised Land.
All of the Trails are Branch Trails,
Leading away from the Main,
We may tread them all before we die,
But we all must come back again—
Back to the Big and Royal Trail,
Tore ever we come to die,
For this is the Trail of Life and Death,
Of the How and the When and the Why.