  In the happy days of childhood, By the river's rushing tide, Where the crystal waters murmured Over all the ripples wide, It was perfect joy to angle Through the spring time's laughing day Though we only caught the minnows And the big fish got away. 'Twas no matter how we waited, How we watched with anxious eyes,— For the finny tribe to yield us Captures of enormous size; There was always disappointment Filling us with deep dismay, For we only caught the minnows And the big fish got away! And it's much the same in manhood! As we line the stream of life, Fishing for the fame and fortune In the waters full of strife, As the young years turn to gray, We can only catch the minnows And the big fish get away! But the sport, the sport, is royal, And it never had a match! So it's really unimportant As to what we lose or catch! Let us use our highest efforts Till the Father calls to say: "What a splendid mess of minnows Though the big fish got away!" |
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