Christmas Trees

  • Christmas Trees

  • Narrator

    The city had withdrawn into itself

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  • And left at last the country to the country;

  • When between whirls of snow not come to lie

  • And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove

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  • A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,

  • Yet did in country fashion in that there

  • He sat and waited till he drew us out

  • A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.

  • Narrator

    He proved to be the city come again

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  • To look for something it had left behind

  • And could not do without and keep its Christmas.

  • Narrator

    He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;

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  • My woods— the young fir balsams like a place

  • Where houses all are churches and have spires.

  • Narrator

    I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.

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  • Narrator

    I doubt if I was tempted for a moment

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  • To sell them off their feet to go in cars

  • And leave the slope behind the house all bare,

  • Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.