The Little Fir-Trees by Evaleen Stein

Hey! little evergreens,
Sturdy and strong,
Summer and autumn-time
Hasten along.
Harvest the sunbeams, then,
Bind them in sheaves,
Range them and change them
To tufts of green leaves.
Delve in the mellow-mold,
Far, far below.
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow! Grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
 
Up, up so airily,
To the blue sky,
Lift up your leafy tips
Stately and high;
Clasp tight your tiny cones,
Tawny and brown,
By and by buffeting
Rains will pelt down.
By and by bitterly
Chill winds will blow,
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow! Grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
 
Gather all uttermost
Beauty, because,—
Hark, till I tell it now!
How Santa Claus,
Out of the northern land,
Over the seas,
Soon shall come seeking you,
Evergreen trees!
Seek you with reindeer soon,
Over the snow:
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow! Grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
 
What if the maple flare
Flaunting and red,
You shall wear waxen white
Taper instead.
What if now, otherwhere,
Birds are beguiled,
You shall yet nestle
The little Christ-Child.
Ah! the strange splendor
The fir-trees shall know!
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow! Grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!