"'Only look, dear Marie,' said Gottfried, 'how fast the snow falls! What large flakes! They look like little milk-white doves.'
"'It is the Mother Holle shaking her feather-beds,' cried Marie, laughing; and looking up towards the sky, and beckoning with her hand, she sang—
"'Mother Holle,
Good wife Holle,
Fill the meadows fair and full:
Stay not, pause not,
Shake away,
Make the snow fall fast to-day.'
"'Oh! I can sing a prettier song than thine,' said Gottfried. 'Listen, now. The good wife Katarine taught it to me;' and he sang—
"'See the snow-flakes,
Merry snow-flakes!
How they fall from yonder sky,
Coming lightly, coming sprightly,
Dancing downwards, from on high.
Faint or tire, will they never,
Wheeling round and round forever.
Surely nothing do I know,
Half so merry as the snow;
Half so merry, merry, merry,
As the dancing, glancing snow.
"'See the snow-flakes,
Solemn snow-flakes!
How they whiten, melt and die.
In what cold and shroud-like masses
O'er the buried earth they lie.
Lie as though the frozen plain
Ne'er would bloom with flowers again.
Surely nothing do I know,
Half so solemn as the snow,
Half so solemn, solemn, solemn,
As the falling, melting snow.'
"'Ah! thy song is sad, brother,' said little Marie: 'it makes me sigh.'
"As she spoke, a little boy, poorly clad, was seen coming up the avenue; and Gottfried exclaimed—'Here comes Heinrich!' and running out of the room, he presently returned, leading by the hand Heinrich, the little faggot-maker, whose mother, a poor but pious widow, lived in a hut just out of the village.
"'Why, Heinrich, where hast thou been this cold day?' asked Marie.
"'Taking my faggots to Herr Kaufferman's,' said the poor boy. 'But oh, Gottfried, they have there the most beautiful Christmas Tree!' and then Heinrich paused and sighed.