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Updated: May 29, 2025
Supporting one another, they move to it with heavy steps; they go up to the railing, fall down, and remain on their knees, and long and bitterly they weep, and yearn and intently gaze at the dumb stone, under which their son is lying; they exchange some brief word, wipe away the dust from the stone, set straight a branch of a fir-tree, and pray again, and cannot tear themselves from this place, where they seem to be nearer to their son, to their memories of him.... Can it be that their prayers, their tears are fruitless?
"I will," said Gypsy, seriously enough. "You!" said Tom; "why, the colt would leave that bay mare out of sight before you could say Jack Robinson." "Oh, I don't expect to beat. Of course that's out of the question. But I should like the run; where's the goal, Francis?" "That turn in the road where the tall fir-tree is, with those dead limbs; you see?" "Yes. We'll trot, of course. All ready."
He dismounted, left the horse, and climbed to the strip of green before the place. None seemed about, all seemed within. Here was the fir-tree with the bench around so old a tree, watching life so long!... Now he saw that Jarvis Barrow sat here. But the old man was asleep. He sat with closed eyes, and his Bible was under his hand. Beside him, tall and fair, wide-browed, gray-eyed, stood Gilian.
There they found the grandmother and everything just as it had been, but when they went through the doorway they found they were grown-up. There were the roses on the leads; it was summer, warm, glorious summer. The Fir-tree Translated from the German of Hans Christian Andersen. There was once a pretty little fir-tree in a wood.
Well, the wind is the nicest of all of them, and you need never be afraid of the wind, for he blows so sweetly, and brings the odour of flowers, and fills you with life, and joy, and happiness. And oh, Bevis dear, you should listen to the delicious songs he sings, and the stories he tells as he goes through the fir-tree and the oak.
He then arose in fury, and tore off mail and breastplate, and every particle of clothing from his body, till humanity was degraded in his heroical person, and he became naked as the beasts of the field. In this condition, and his wits quite gone, sword was forgotten as well as shield and helm; and he tore up fir-tree and ash, and began running through the woods.
One evening towards the end of July, when the summer is at its heat, and makes the world feel as if there never had been, and never ought to be anything but summer; and when the wind of its nights comes to us from the land where the sun is not, to tell human souls that, dear as is the sunlight to their eyes, there are sweeter things far with which the sun has little to do Hester was sitting under a fir-tree on the gathered leaves of numberless years, pine-odors filling the air around her, as if they, too, stole out with the things of the night when the sun was gone.
"What is the sea, and what does it look like?" "It would take too much time to explain," said the stork, flying quickly away. "Rejoice in thy youth," said the sunbeam; "rejoice in thy fresh growth, and the young life that is in thee." And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but the fir-tree regarded them not.
At Voralberg in the Tyrol, on the first Sunday in Lent, a slender young fir-tree is surrounded with a pile of straw and firewood. To the top of the tree is fastened a human figure called the "witch," made of old clothes and stuffed with gunpowder.
Spring is the very Saviour, as it were, of all the numberless folk, great and small, which grow green and blossom there, wherefore the forest holds festival for his birthday and cradle feast as is but fitting! The fir-tree lights up brighter tips to its boughs, as children do with tapers at Christmastide. Then comes the largesse.
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