What if the maples flare
Flaunting and red,
You shall wear waxen white
Tapers 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!
THE WREN-HOUSE
Yesterday I took my saw
And some bits of wood,
And I made a little house
Nicely as I could.
I put on a mossy-green
Little pointed roof,
And I cut a tiny door
That is pussy-proof.
For I hope some little wrens
To our yard will come
And will choose my little house
For their little home.
I shall hang it in the boughs
Of the apple-tree,
And I'm sure as rent for it
They will sing to me!