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Mary F. Butts

The Christmas Trees

There's a stir among the trees,

There's a whisper in the breeze,

Little ice-points clash and clink,

Little needles nod and wink,

Sturdy fir-trees sway and sigh—

"Here am I! Here am I!"

"All the summer long I stood

In the silence of the woods.

Tall and tapering I grew;

What might happen well I knew;

For one day a little bird

Sang, and in the song I heard

Many things quite strange to me

Of Christmas and the Christmas tree.

"When the sun was hid from sight

In the darkness of the night,

When the wind with sudden fret

Pulled at my green coronet,

Staunch I stood, and hid my fears,

Weeping silent fragrant tears,

Praying still that I might be

Fitted for a Christmas tree.

"Now here we stand

On every hand

In us a hoard of summer stored,

Birds have flown over us,

Blue sky has covered us,

Soft winds have sung to us,

Blossoms have flung to us

Measureless sweetness,

Now in completeness

We wait."