Just Folks

The Few

          The easy roads are crowded
            And the level roads are jammed;
          The pleasant little rivers
            With the drifting folks are crammed.
          But off yonder where it's rocky,
            Where you get a better view,
          You will find the ranks are thinning
            And the travelers are few.

          Where the going's smooth and pleasant
            You will always find the throng,
          For the many, more's the pity,
            Seem to like to drift along.
          But the steeps that call for courage,
            And the task that's hard to do
          In the end result in glory
            For the never-wavering few.