The Tale of a Little Tree

She was small when she was planted, with sisters of hers, in the wood, and the gardener whispered in her ear: One day you will become an enchanting tree. And the little tree answered, while the autumn winds shook her supple boughs: Yes — one day, some day to come.

Christmas arrived that year, as it does every year, and the morning was cold; she heard footsteps drawing near her, and recognized from afar the voice of the one who had planted her; and she went on wrestling with a thought that had sunk deep within her: Might it be my turn this time, small as I am?...

She stretched out her boughs so that he might see her, but he paid her no heed; the year passed, and another after it; her companions grew quickly, while she stayed as she was, not knowing how to untangle her knotted plight.

In the fourth year the gardener came and uprooted little trees around her, and she could not bear to keep silent, so she cried: Take me too! But her cry did not carry beyond her narrow circle... he wanted the big ones!...

She fell silent, with a clamor in her breast: "I shall grow, to be the best in all these parts," she said. The snow clothed the hills and the knolls, and she feared lest the frost's harm should touch her branches; then the snows melted, the blossom-buds peeped out, and the breath of spring spread through the reaches of the wood; but she thought ever of the coming autumn... of growing, that she might be arrayed in holiday dress!

And one day the gardener came, and studied her, and satisfied himself that she had become worthy of Christmas... and he told his friend the story of the planting of his little pine, the whistling of the winds cutting his sentences short; then the two walked on — and on the snow behind her were red stains!

In the city our tree found herself in a rich man's house, and for the first time in the story of her life she rode in a cart, and passed through the streets, and the people of the city looked at her; and she whispered in her own ear: If only they would decorate me tonight — I cannot wait until morning. But no one looked at her, and she remained until the next day; then she was showered with ornaments, and bells were hung upon her, and colored lights; and she longed for the children to gather in a ring around her, but they did not... and how could her splendor be complete without children?...

Then she heard an order given that she be moved to a private room, where she was set about with the shepherds and the flock, and her boughs shaded a mother's tenderness and the radiance of the beloved Child... People came in and went out; she heard greetings exchanged; then everyone fell silent, and she was left alone, in the private room!...