A 9. THE LITTLE TREE. LITTLE tree stood up in the wood The needles stuck about, "My companions all have leaves While I've nothing but these needles; Might I have my fortune told, The little tree's asleep by dark, And now its golden leaves you mark: The little tree says, "Now I'm set high: But now again the night came back: Through the forest there walked a Jew, With great thick beard and great thick sack, And soon the gold leaves did view. He pockets them all, and away does fare, Leaving the little tree quite bare. The little tree speaks up distressed, - The little tree sleeps again at dark, And wakes with the early light. And now its glass leaves you may mark: The little tree says, "Now I'm right glad : There came up now a mighty blast, The little tree complains, "My glass lies on the ground: Each other tree remains With its green dress all sound. Might I but have my wish once more, I would have of those good green leaves good store." Again asleep is the little tree, And early wakes to the light: He is covered with green leaves fair to see ; And says, "I am now all nicely dressed, And now, with udders full, Forth a wild she-goat sprung, Seeking for herbs to pull, To feed her young. She sees the leaves, nor makes much talk, The little tree again is bare, And thus to himself he said: The little tree slept sad that night, What made the little tree laugh like mad? N. L. Frothingham (from the German of Rückert). 10. A DOUBTING HEART. HERE are the swallows fled? W Frozen and dead, Perchance, upon some bleak and frozen shore. O doubting heart! Far over purple seas, They wait in sunny ease The balmy southern breeze To bring them to their northern home once more. Why must the flowers die? Prisoned they lie In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. O doubting heart! They only sleep below The soft white ermine snow, While winter winds shall blow, To breathe and smile upon you soon again. The sun has hid his rays These many days: Will dreary hours never leave the earth? O doubting heart! The stormy clouds on high Veil the same sunny sky That soon (for Spring is nigh) Shall wake the Summer into golden mirth. Fair hope is dead, and light What sound can break the silence of despair? O doubting heart! Thy sky is overcast; Brighter for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air. U 11. UNDER THE SNOW. NDER the snow the violets are budding, Nurtured and cherished within the warın earth; Rich fragrance imbibing, while patiently waiting The word of command that shall wake them to birth. Under the snow the streamlets are sleeping'; Lulled is the voice of their murmuring flow: Their rest is not death; but life is renewing, While Spring's brightest promise is ice-bound below. Under the snow, oh! under the snow, Earth sleeps but to waken, and rests but to rise, And silently toils in her storehouse below, Adding tint to the floweret, and splendor to skies. |