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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506822" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Christmas Trees</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The city had withdrawn into itself<br>And left at last the country to the country;<br>When between whirls of snow not come to lie<br>And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove<br>A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,<br>Yet did in country fashion in that there<br>He sat and waited till he drew us out<br>A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.<br>He proved to be the city come again<br>To look for something it had left behind<br>And could not do without and keep its Christmas.<br>He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;<br>My woods—the young fir balsams like a place<br>Where houses all are churches and have spires.<br>I hadn’t thought of them as Christmas Trees.<br>I doubt if I was tempted for a moment<br>To sell them off their feet to go in cars<br>And leave the slope behind the house all bare,<br>Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.<br>I’d hate to have them know it if I was.<br>Yet more I’d hate to hold my trees except<br>As others hold theirs or refuse for them,<br>Beyond the time of profitable growth,<br>The trial by market everything must come to.<br>I dallied so much with the thought of selling.<br>Then whether from mistaken courtesy<br>And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether<br>From hope of hearing good of what was mine,<br>I said, “There aren’t enough to be worth while.”<br>“I could soon tell how many they would cut,<br>You let me look them over.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“You could look.<br>But don’t expect I’m going to let you have them.”<br>Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close<br>That lop each other of boughs, but not a few<br>Quite solitary and having equal boughs<br>All round and round. The latter he nodded “Yes” to,<br>Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,<br>With a buyer’s moderation, “That would do.”<br>I thought so too, but wasn’t there to say so.<br>We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,<br>And came down on the north.<br>He said, “A thousand.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“A thousand Christmas trees!—at what apiece?”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He felt some need of softening that to me:<br>“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I was certain I had never meant<br>To let him have them. Never show surprise!<br>But thirty dollars seemed so small beside<br>The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents<br>(For that was all they figured out apiece),<br>Three cents so small beside the dollar friends<br>I should be writing to within the hour<br>Would pay in cities for good trees like those,<br>Regular vestry-trees whole Sunday Schools<br>Could hang enough on to pick off enough.<br>A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!<br>Worth three cents more to give away than sell,<br>As may be shown by a simple calculation.<br>Too bad I couldn’t lay one in a letter.<br>I can’t help wishing I could send you one,<br>In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Frost">Robert Frost</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=506822" data-title="Christmas Trees de Robert Frost" data-description="The city had withdrawn into itself
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
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in ..."></div>
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