Saturday, August 26, 2017

The Little Christmas Tree

The Little Christmas Tree
by Susan Coolidge

The Christmas day was coming, the Christmas eve drew 
near,
The fir-trees they were talking low at midnight cold and
clear
And this is what the fir-trees said, all in the pale moon-
light,
"Now which of us shall chosen be to grace the holy
night?

The tall trees and the goodly trees raised each a lofty 
head.
In glad and secret confidence, though not a word they 
said
But one, the baby of the band, could not restrain a sigh--
"You all will be approved," he said, "but oh! what
chance have I?"

Then axe on shoulder, to the grove a woodman took his
way.
One baby-girl he had at home, and he went forth to find
A little tree as small as she, just suited to his mind.

Oh, glad and proud the baby-fir, amid its brethren tall,
To be thus chosen and singled out, the first among them
all !
He stretched his fragrant branches, his little heart beat
fast,
He was a real Christmas tree ; he had his wish at last.

One large and shining apple with cheeks of ruddy gold,
Six tapers, and a tiny doll were all that he could hold.
" I am so small, so very small, no one will mark or know
How thick and green my needles are, how true my
branches grow ;
Few toys and candles could I hold, but heart and will
are free,
And in my heart of hearts I know I am a Christmas
tree."

The Christmas angel hovered near; he caught the
grieving word,
And, laughing low, he hurried forth, with love and pity
stirred.
He sought and found St Nicholas, the dear old Christ-
mas saint,
And in his fatherly kind ear rehearsed the fir-tree's
plaint.

Saints are all-powerful, we know, so it befell that day,
The baby laughed, the baby crowed, to see the tapers
bright;
The forest baby felt the joy, and shared in the delight.
And when at last the tapers died, and when the baby
slept,
The little fir in silent night a patient vigil kept;
Though scorched and brown its needles were, it had no
heart to grieve.
"I have not lived in vain," he said ; "thank God for
Christmas eve!"

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