What The Pine Trees Said

I heard the swaying pine trees speak, As I went down the glen: "Next year," said one, "the wind shall seek, But find me not again!"

"I shall go forth upon the seas, A mast, or steering-beam; On me shall breathe the tropic breeze, Above, strange stars shall gleam.'

"And I--the ax shall cleave my grain, And many times divide; From my dear brood I'll shed the rain, And roof their ingleside."

Then up and spake a slender shaft, That like an arrow grew; "No breeze my leafless stem shall waft, No ax my trunk shall hew--

But though a single hour is mine, How happy shall I be! Young hearts shall leap, young eyes shall shine To greet their Christmas tree!"